


Monster.

by Skeleton_Wolf



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek Hale, Angst, Bad Friend Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), Blood, Derek Hale Uses His Words, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Jealous Derek Hale, M/M, Mates, Mates Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Minor Isaac Lahey/Danny Mahealani, Minor Isaac Lahey/Scott McCall, Mutual Pining, Nightmares, Other Ships Not Mentioned in Tags, POV Derek Hale, POV Stiles Stilinski, Pack Nights, Protective Derek, Sassy Peter Hale, Slow Build Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Smart Lydia Martin, Sort Of, Stiles Stilinski Has Nightmares, Stiles Stilinski Is Bad at Feelings, Stiles Stilinski is Part of the Pack, Vampire Stiles Stilinski, Vampires, vamp!Stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-20
Updated: 2020-09-03
Packaged: 2021-02-18 01:23:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 33
Words: 62,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21502972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skeleton_Wolf/pseuds/Skeleton_Wolf
Summary: Stiles had been keeping a secret from The Pack since the vampires came to town. Lydia, being the genius she is, works it out. Derek, on the other hand, just so happens to make a well - or poorly, depending on how you look at it - timed entrance through Stiles' window.Not everyone can be as perfectly understanding when it comes to the truth as Lydia, though.Some times people can only see the unwanted blood on your hands and not the loyalty and desperation that lies in your heart. And sometimes, sometimes telling the truth can lead you down a path of confusing feelings, moments, memories and nightmares. Where does the path end and how long will it take to get there?
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Lydia Martin & Stiles Stilinski, Sheriff Stilinski & Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 169
Kudos: 603





	1. Lost Boy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, I am so excited for you to read this and really hope you enjoy.
> 
> One quick thing before we start: please do not copy to another site or translate without permission, thank you. (You can get in touch with me on Instagram [@skeleton_w0lf](https://www.instagram.com/skeleton_w0lf/?hl=en) )
> 
> TW: mentions of blood, death and beatings.  
> (Trigger Warnings will always be here, in the top notes section, and will usually be different depending on the chapter.)

“Boo!” Stiles jumped out from behind the door as Derek walked out of the kitchen.

“Fuck! Stiles, just because I can’t hear you anymore doesn’t mean you can jump out from every corner.” Derek sighed, glaring at the charm hanging from a leather chain around Stiles’ neck making Stiles laugh. 

Stiles had received the charm a few months back when a coven of vampires came to town. They had targeted Stiles after killing other innocents. But Stiles had just laughed and said something about it always being him. Derek thought he was being stupid although it was no surprise to anyone, really, as no one _but_ Stiles would find this crap-show something to laugh over. 

The necklace hid his scent and quietened his heartbeat, Stiles had realised he could use it to scare the wolves (Derek in particular) and he found it endlessly amusing to do so. Derek cursed Deaton for giving it to him in the first place but couldn't be too mad, as it had saved the boy a few times.

Deaton should've taken it back after Stiles no longer needed it, though.

"Just because I _shouldn’t_ do something doesn’t mean I _can’t_ , Der-bear," Stiles sung, smirking mischievously, eyes glinting as he patted Derek on the shoulder and strode over to sit on the couch where he was soon joined by Peter, Lydia and Isaac all of whom were laughing. "When are the others joining us?"

"They should be here soonish," Isaac replied as he calmed down and glanced at his phone. Stiles nodded and looked over at Lydia with a grin.

Derek couldn't help but wonder why Lydia kept giving Stiles odd looks but he brushed it off when the three teens began to bicker over what they were going to watch. Lydia was voting for 'Love, Simon', Isaac for the new 'Star Trek' and Stiles, as always, for any and all 'Star Wars' films.

"Can you lot ever unanimously decide on a movie?" Peter quirked an eyebrow at them only to have Lydia and Stiles snark back their replies and Isaac roll his eyes dramatically.

A few minutes later the door burst open and the rest of their Pack came flooding in, landing in different places on the sofas. Erica and Boyd curled up on the love seat, Scott sat next to Isaac, Ethan with Jackson and so on, all next to their significant other, making Derek's lips twitch slightly. Jackson was the first to ask, "So, what are we watching?" 

“They can't decide… again." 

"Hey! If you're so good at picking a movie we'll all like, why don't you recommend one?" Stiles challenged Peter with his usual level of _'ha, beat that sucker'_.

"Alright, I will, how about ‘The Lost Boys’?"

"Huh," Lydia placed a finger on her lips for a second before saying, "you know what? That's actually a good idea." Derek didn't miss the flick of her eyes, assessing the way Stiles reacted to the recommendation. He couldn't help but do the same, hating how he couldn't smell the younger man's emotions. 

Stiles’ eyes were, very briefly, filled with panic as he glanced at Peter and then over to Lydia, his hands tightening over the hem of his flannel but then a mask – one made of smiling sarcasm – seemed to take control of his features. Burnt caramel eyes met Derek’s and he looked away.

**~~~~~**

Halfway through the movie, Stiles stood up abruptly saying something about getting more popcorn and left for the kitchen, eyes averted from the sharp teeth and blood on the large screen. Lydia followed after him after what seemed to be a moment's consideration, patting Isaac's shoulder lightly as if to apologise for moving his "headrest" – her lap, where she had been playing with his curly blonde hair.

Derek forced himself not to listen in but it wasn't his fault if he caught a few words here and there; like, "We should talk" and "my house later", right?

All he wanted to do was burst in there to find out why and when. He was almost desperate to do so but knew he shouldn't – couldn't if he wanted to avoid suspicion. But he couldn’t stop his mind from speculating – trying in vain to come up with anything unrelated to Stiles and Lydia’s relationship for a reason he was yet to accept. 

*********

Stiles listened as Lydia listed all of her reasons for believing what she did, he watched as she took it all in and she held him as he cried, unable to stop the tears from flowing now that someone finally knew.

"You should tell The Pack," she told him just before she left. "They'll understand, they won't hate you." He didn't believe her but he nodded nonetheless.

**~~~~~**

Derek was getting more and more paranoid, Lydia and Stiles kept trading glances. From Lydia's end, every Pack meeting, they got angrier, almost threatening, and it was worrying Derek. He decided to talk to Stiles and it needed to be soon. He needed to know what was going on between the two. Especially when Stiles’ eyes almost turned imploring (still strong in his defiance though); Stiles didn’t do begging in any form.

That decision didn't stop him from watching the two, carefully, almost jealously. He shook his head and told himself off, he was _not_ jealous of Lydia. If the two were dating, then so be it. 

But it kept playing over and over again in his head. The looks, angry in a way that was trying to be convincing on one end, scared yet challenging on the other, both irrevocably _fond._ As if they had a shared secret; as if one was afraid it would ruin something and the other knew better.

It had to be done soon, he wanted to find out now but it was too late. Tomorrow would have to do. He had to know. He'd tried to avoid it, tried not to think about it but he couldn't stop himself. Once everyone was gone, there was nothing to block or distract his thoughts so he let them flow, every time. Regretting it almost immediately afterwards, the time between the two events decreasing rapidly.

_Tomorrow_ , he reminded himself, _once Stiles got home._

**~~~~~**

Derek was practically vibrating with anticipation at the idea of finally, _finally_ , learning what was going on between the two as he walked towards the house. He couldn't help the slight on-edge feeling that was blooming in the pit of his stomach, though. What would he do if his suspicions were true? Maybe Stiles didn't wear the necklace now to scare The Pack but to cover up Lydia's lingering scent. 

It didn't matter, he told himself, Stiles would be happy with Lydia, he'd wanted to date her for only the gods knew how long so he should be happy for them. But that thought didn't do a whole lot to comfort Derek as he pulled himself up the tree outside Stiles' window and reached forward to open it only to pause and wonder if maybe he _should_ use the front door. If the two really were dating, they might want their privacy.

He pushed the window open regardless, they had only just gotten home so he highly doubted he'd see anything scarring. Now perched on the window sill, he could slide the curtains open and jump in. Landing heavily, he looked up.

What he saw was not at all what he had been expecting.

*********

Blood dripped down his jaw and coated his hands, gods, he had been so fucking hungry. He tossed the empty carcass of the rat into the cooler – the one he usually kept under his bed, hidden by a blanket and a few old shirts – planning on fully disposing of it later. Stiles licked a few drops of blood off his fingers before dipping back into the nearly empty cooler and pulling back with a blood bag that Deaton had given him. 

Drinking from these was not uncommon for Stiles but he did prefer fresh (or as fresh as a dead rat that had been sitting in a cold box for two days could be) blood, did prefer sinking his teeth into flesh, _not_ plastic. Although, he did _not_ enjoy the feeling of killing innocent creatures for his survival despite what his preferences may say. And the blood bags were always filled with animal blood – per Stiles’ request and against Deaton’s advice – but he had to live, for his dad and for his Pack. 

He reminded himself of this as he pressed his too-sharp teeth gently against the material, reminded himself as the blood flowed passed his lips, as he swallowed eagerly when he realised it was deer (his favourite). And, as he let out a quiet moan, he let himself believe, just for a moment, that if he were to tell The Pack they would accept him as Lydia had done. 

She kept trying to get him to tell them but he rebuked her every attempt, scared of what they would say, what they would do. In fact, _scared_ was not a strong enough word, petrified was more like it. He had never been so grateful to anyone as he had been to Deaton when the man had offered to keep his secret and help him keep it himself. Deaton had given him the necklace, blood, a good cover story and was currently looking into a way to allow Stiles to age so he wouldn’t have to go through the painful process of watching everyone he loved, and would ever love, die. Something he had worked himself into a panic attack over _twice_ before finally asking Deaton to do that as one more favour.

He had been sincerely surprised – a hard feat to achieve considering only a few years ago he had found out that his best friend was a werewolf and a lot of unexpected things had happened since – when he was informed that the vet was already looking into it.

Lydia was on the search for a cure, which Stiles highly doubted she would find but he didn’t want to discourage her in case he was wrong. She never ceased in shocking and amazing Stiles so it actually didn’t seem that far fetched when she had offered to do so. Nor did it when she had told him that they needed to "talk” and that she knew he was “different” that day in the kitchen. He was so glad to finally be able to talk about it with someone that wasn’t an annoyingly cryptic veterinarian.

His mind drifted back to reality when he heard a _click_ and slide of his window causing him to freeze.

He'd forgotten to lock his window. _Shit._

The curtains were pushed open sharply and he begged every god, deity and supernatural being – existing or not – that it wasn’t who he thought it was. Because if it was, he might as well stake himself through the heart now. When the vampires came to town he had found out that Derek _hated_ , with a capital _every letter_ , vampires and anything even remotely related to them. There was no way he could handle the werewolf hating him any more than he already did. One of his main reasonings against telling The Pack, albeit his weakest.

Two large feet thumped on the ground and Stiles reprimanded himself for not keeping a better eye on his surroundings since he could now, having even better senses than most of the wolves after the _incident_ that had put him in this position. But it was too late for that now; he had delayed too long to pull the bag away from his lips like he should have done the second he heard the sound of his window opening. So the best he could do was slowly lower it, pressing on the puncture wound to stop it from drooling blood all over his bed.

He was actually shocked at how long he had kept his sheets stain-free and the Weres of The Pack away from his room so they wouldn’t smell the blood but it was all for nothing it seemed as his eyes met Derek’s beautiful swirling summer-forest ones. Expecting to see fury or hate or repulsion or something along those lines; he instinctively flinched. So when he saw none of those things he let out a very small, slightly relieved sigh. However, he _did_ see pity, slight judgment and something that almost resembled disappointment or betrayal. Stiles couldn’t work out why he would feel any of those things for something like him.

When Derek just kept staring, Stiles reached forward maintaining eye contact even as he pulled back with a roll of tape in his grasp. Only breaking it when he had to look down to secure the tape over the holes in the PVC and place it back where it belonged.

“Don’t stop on my account.” Stiles’ head snapped up at Derek’s words. They felt like a slap to the face but despite their implication, Derek’s eyes had not changed – the sting slightly lessened.

Stiles was suddenly swarmed with the need to apologise, to amend this mistake but he couldn’t seem to find the right words. In fact, he couldn’t seem to find any words at all and he despised it, he always spoke too much but the one time he truly needed – wanted to say something, _anything_ , he just couldn’t. He could not say anything to fix this because he knew what Derek saw, he knew he saw a monster and he couldn't blame him. 

And, too quickly for him to really process, all the fear he had previously felt was gone, replaced with hatred. He felt disgusted by himself and by what he was in a way he had never before, because Derek always used to see Stiles as lesser than him, had made that abundantly clear with how he had spoken to and treated him, but they had finally gotten over that. Or at least Stiles liked to think that they had. What they were before _this_ was some form of almost-friends. But even now, or just minutes before, Stiles had never been pitied by the man, never had him feel sorry for Stiles or really _care_ about him in any way.

Seeing it now and seeing the judgment that was slowly weaving its way in, too, made him feel sick to the point where he wished he had not gobbled down so much so quickly. “I--” he finally tried but he broke off, why was Derek even still here? The alpha shook his head, the disappointment became more evident so Stiles desperately tried again, “I can explain, please.” 

He should not feel bad for what he was, it was not his fault after all and it was not like he wanted to be this. Not to mention he had never minded what anyone thought of him before, especially not Derek, but it was different now. Like he had to give his reasons for not telling anyone, for being what he was and it was fucking ridiculous. 

He was constantly surrounded by people that most humans would consider as monsters but he didn't, hadn't even when he was a human, even before they knew anything about all of this. So why should he be considered one by himself or anyone else? He shouldn't, it was not like he'd ever purposely hurt someone with his newfound strength and craving for blood. His control hardly ever slipped and when it did it was only because he was _actually_ feeding.

So Stiles pushed down that hatred, pushed down the growing guilt and took an unnecessary breath. Apparently, when you're technically _dead_ you don't actually have to breathe. Which amazed him in an odd way, especially since he could still lose control of his not-breathing when having a panic attack. When he had asked Deaton about it he had said something about habits and how they were hard to get rid of.

Anyway, Stiles was not going to let all of his previous happiness go just because Derek – someone who used to and sometimes still did hate him – had a disapproving look in his eyes. He wasn't going to allow the peace he had fought so desperately to gain within himself a multitude of times slip through his grasp, again. He swallowed and sighed another pointless breath. And, as it blew out, he managed to blow away some of the doubt Derek had planted.

Derek exhaled heavily and rose an eyebrow, adjusting his posture to match his expression. He tilted his head minutely but it was enough for Stiles to realise he was still hungry and, although he may have impeccable control, once he’d started to feed it took a lot – like a werewolf hurtling through his window unannounced – for him to stop and for Derek to just expose a major artery like that… it was a big mistake. He had never had to cut a feeding short since he knew when his dad came home and knew that none of his friends would come unannounced. None of the ones that used the door, anyway. And he always had his window locked, almost always, anyway. So he had no idea how difficult it would be.

Stiles may not have wanted to ever drink human blood again, or a supernatural’s for that matter, but that didn’t stop his (un)natural instincts from telling him to just _pin Derek to a wall and take what he needed_ . He ran a hand through his hair, desperately tugging at the shorter strands at the back, hoping to distract himself long enough to _not_ do that.

Dragging his eyes away from Derek’s pulse point was a chore and when his eyes connected with Derek’s again they were completely blank. There was no way he hadn’t noticed. “Stiles, despite what you may think, if you need to keep drinking I will wait.” And that was all he needed to hear before he tore back into the package and then drained half of another one before closing it up and letting out a noise of contentment.

Quickly, he put everything away, shut his window and locked it, giving Derek a pointed look that he didn’t see as he was still staring at where Stiles had been sitting a few moments ago. Though his face was blank, his scent was a completely different story. Stiles had tried to avoid reading into it earlier, worried about what he would smell but now... He inhaled quietly, his nostrils flaring and filling with _intrigue_ and _guilt_ and none of what he had thought he’d seen earlier. And what the hell was he feeling guilty over? Surely Derek was not blaming himself for this. There was no way. He shook his head.

The last few things he did were check his dad wasn’t home and shut his door before, finally, sitting back down on his bed. “Okay, so…” He trailed off, not entirely sure what to say and instead waited for Derek to say something. It felt as if their roles were reversed.

“You’re a vampire.” Stiles winced at the word, spoken with what could only be disdain. Slowly, he nodded. “How?”

“You know,” he rolled his eyes. “I died with a vamp’s blood in my system and all that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, this used to be a one-shot but I got inspired to continue it. I hope you enjoy and stick around. Comment (constructive criticism is welcome btw), leave kudos, share if you want. Have a great day, bye! :)


	2. Try Me.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek and Stiles talk some more.

**~~~~~**

He had died. Stiles had died and told no one. Stiles had been forced into becoming something he never wanted to become and, as far as Derek knew, had had to go through it alone. And yet Derek felt an odd sense of relief: he was _not_ with Lydia and, as far as he was aware, they had just been hanging out more recently because, undoubtedly, she had worked it out. And Stiles would be _safe_. For once.

When he had first entered Stiles room he had assumed that he must have the wrong house but it _was_ Stiles that sat there, in front of him, holding a clear bag almost full with blood. Stiles’ eyes had widened and filled with fear as he lowered the bag, scarlet-stained lips parting.

Derek was shocked, yes, but he was also saddened that Stiles hadn’t trusted them enough to tell him. But now that he thought about it, he wouldn’t have wanted to tell his Pack if he were in Stiles’ position. Scott would’ve hated it, the idea of his best friend being something that kills, that takes – steals – lives to survive. 

It wasn’t just Scott though, Derek knew that he had made his hatred for vampires crystal clear. He couldn’t say that his views had changed, or ever would, because that’s what he was taught when he was younger. But Derek could tell that Stiles was _trying_ to not be what most vampires were portrayed to be. He could smell the blood, knew it wasn’t from a human and if it was _only_ animal blood he couldn’t be upset. He _was_ a werewolf after all and he _had_ hunted animals in his beta shift, it was in his nature. Yet he knew he didn’t have to, especially now he knew Scott.

He supposed he should at least try to rethink his opinion about vampires as he had only heard stories and met one coven of them. That had been the coven that had done this to Stiles, but if Stiles could be a good vampire then so could others. 

When Stiles finally broke their eye contact he had snapped at him not to stop just for him and almost immediately regretted it as an intense guilt had filled Stiles’ eyes, because it was not his fault. If he knew anything about Stiles (bar him being an annoying, sarcastic little shit) it was that he didn’t want to be turned, didn’t want to be a slave to an instinct that wasn’t solely his own. Derek respected that, despite thinking it a little idiotic due to them being constantly being surrounded by supernatural things, he understood it and he felt bad for the teen who was now perpetually stuck as an almost 18-year-old.

His heart twisted horribly when he realised that he would grow old and die and Stiles would still look the same – pale, if not paler, covered in freckles, beautifully soft hair and eyes like dark chocolate cookies. And, okay, maybe he would have been a little disappointed if Stiles and Lydia had turned out to be dating. But who could blame him?

Stiles seemed to struggle internally, at a loss at what to say. He stumbled over his words before pleading that he could explain. Derek shifted when defiance arose in the vampire’s eyes, Then they were connected to his neck, it was surreal but Derek recognized it for what it was and not what it could have been. He told Stiles to eat and then watched in amazement as Stiles did as told for once. It was almost elegant, the way he pulled the bag from its place and carefully peeled away the tape only to replace it with his fangs.

Everything about him was suddenly so much more defined: Stiles’ dark molten honeycomb eyes were brighter, cheekbones sharper, even his lips seemed more full, although that might have something to do with his now-excessive amount of teeth. His fangs were almost feline; sharper, more needle-like than Derek’s, it was fascinating.

Even after Stiles had moved, Derek’s eyes stayed stuck to the place he had been, shocked but curious. That was until he remembered what he had first thought about: for Stiles to be what he was he must have died. Stiles was Pack and Pack looked out for one another. They had royally fucked up this time.

Stiles sat down, started to speak, then gave up. So Derek filled the silence, “You’re a vampire.” It wasn’t a question but Stiles nodded anyway. “How?”  
  
“You know,” Stiles rolled his eyes. “I died with a vamps blood in my system and all that.”   
  
Derek sat down next to him, expression deadpan as he said, “Seriously, Stiles.” And that’s all it seemed to take, Stiles broke as if he had been holding this in, wanting to tell more than whoever already knew – as little as possible, most likely. It was like there was a piece of string that had been pulled taut and with Derek’s words, had frayed and split, snapping violently, inside him.

“I had just gone out to get some fresh air, that’s all, I had been cooped up inside all day researching vampires and it wasn’t that late!” He flew up from his seat next to Derek and began pacing, hands tugging angrily at his hair. “I was only going to be out there for a few minutes but that obviously didn’t matter. It was stupid, but I was going insane.” Stiles stopped to look at Derek. And, in that moment, Derek could see that he did not feel regret for this but was something akin to anger, closer to fury or wrath. It was almost intimidating.

“They took you?” Derek watched as Stiles resumed his pacing, hands pausing their movements only long enough to cover his face and drag down. He seemed more hesitant to continue now. Something in Derek’s stomach flipped in anxiety; all the possible scenarios of what Stiles could have gone through running rampage in his thoughts.

Then Stiles was in front of Derek, startling him before he remembered Stiles saying something about vampires and their speed a while ago. “Why aren’t you pissed at me? You hate what I am.”   
  
As much as Derek wanted to find out what had happened to Stiles he wanted Stiles to know the truth more so he said, “I hate vampires, Stiles, not you and I know now that not all vampires are as bad as they are made out to be.” 

“Are you sure about that?” Derek raised an eyebrow at the question and nodded, slowly. Stiles pulled his desk chair over and sat down in front of Derek, “They did take me, yes.” He started, uncertainly. “They knocked me out, planned to drain me dry and leave me outside yours or Scott’s front door,” Derek paled; the idea of finding Stiles, crumpled and bloodless, on his doorstep, making him feel ill. Stiles, despite seeming a little confused as to why, reached out and placed his hand on Derek’s, giving it a gentle squeeze as if reassuring him that he was still there, in front of Derek and okay. For now, he was okay.

“They realised that they could hurt you more if they turned me, forced me to drink one of The Pack, or anyone really, in front of the rest of you.” He seemed to be struggling to go on so Derek repaid the favour, clutching Stiles’ hand and nodding at him to continue. “They kept doing that thing that every Hollywood bad guy does: telling me their plans. It was kind of funny, to be honest.” Of course it was; only Stiles could find humour in a situation like this.

“I guess they never expected me to get back here alive, I suppose I didn’t.” All the mirth left his face then, he shook his head and then grinned. “Didn’t expect me to get away though. Anyway,” he paused again tilting his head and blinking like he only just remembered it was Derek he was talking to but then he went on like it was nothing, “I’d probably give it a zero out of ten ratings, not gonna be doing that again.” He pulled his hand back and went to stand up but Derek wrapped his now free hand around Stiles’ wrist.

“Stiles, there’s more to that story and we both know it, sit down.” Maybe he should’ve phrased that better, nicer, but he didn’t know how to.

With a dramatic sigh, Stiles sat back down, “Dude, why do you care so much?” 

“Because you’re Pack and because Pack is supposed to stick together and help each other and we failed that. We failed you, Stiles and I’m sorry.” 

Derek bowed his head slightly but tilted it back up again when Stiles spoke, voice quiet but rising quickly, “Is that it, the only reason? Because of something that’s not your fault, you didn’t make this happen so you shouldn’t feel guilty or any sense of responsibility for this. You did nothing, Derek, so if that’s the only reason then—”

Derek cut him off, there were so many things he wanted to say: he did do nothing that was the point, and it was his fault because he should’ve known or noticed or _something_ but he knew that wouldn’t help so instead he said, “That’s not the only reason, I can tell you want to talk to someone, someone else if I’m right in assuming that Lydia knows. And because I want to know what happened… also, I want you to know that you can talk to me.” He hadn’t meant to say the last part but he couldn’t take it back now.

“Wow, I’m pretty sure that’s the most you’ve ever said to me and it wasn’t an insult!” Stiles chuckled when Derek rolled his eyes.

“Stiles,” he said, sighing through his nose.

“Right, fine. After they decided to turn me they weren’t so worried about their beatings getting too aggressive.” When Derek’s eyes widened, he shrugged. “They hit me a few times but once it wasn’t necessary to keep me conscious anymore,” he waved his hands in a noncommittal way, “they went a little overboard.” He winced at the memory. “When I was out they must have forced their blood into my system since I don’t remember ever taking it but I did wake up with a suspiciously metallic taste in my mouth. Whether that was my own blood or not, I still don’t know.

“Anyway, the next time they beat me up they didn’t hold back. That’s how I died, they beat me until I was dead.” He shivered, eyes going glassy, “the next and last time I woke up, I was no longer human.” There was more, Derek could tell but he could no longer find it in himself to push the teen, who was still _so_ young, any further. Stiles had gone through more than anyone could ever know and he was still so strong, still kept up a smile and sarcastic comments, still laughed and played games and watched movies and went out and acted so fucking normal. Anyone would think he _was_ normal but he’d been through so much and talked so little about it, covering it up by rambling about anything else and diverting to other topics.

Derek realised that Stiles had never actually talked about his feelings despite listening to everyone else’s problems, helping them to the best of his ability, he had never had an honest conversation about his own. Though Derek may not have always been around Stiles, he could tell it was true just by the way everything had poured from him, and even the hiccups in his speech just acted as further backup. The teen had gone through so much _alone_ and Derek felt partially responsible. He had called him weak and defenceless among so many other things. That may have been a while ago and they may be passed that now, but words stick, he knew that.

Stiles had been put through some serious shit just for being friends with a werewolf and Derek had never thought about it all. It had caused this beautiful once-human man pain that no one would deign to listen to. So he said: “If there’s more, you can tell me, I won’t judge you.”

“You won’t judge because you don’t care.” Stiles’ face remained impassive, at odds with his words.

“That’s not true, I care more than you know.” He slipped his hand back into Stiles’.

Stiles frowned, ears twitching; listening to his heartbeat, “You’re not lying.” 

Derek shook his head, “No, I’m not.”

With a pained sigh, Stiles said, “You shouldn’t care, if you knew the full story I’m sure you wouldn’t care.” Derek couldn’t believe that, as Stiles spoke Derek had come to realise more and more that Stiles really hadn’t changed. Of course, he hadn’t, they would’ve noticed. But not only that, he realised that it was just a bad stigma about vampires, not all were bad but some covens were. And the corrupt covens tended to be the ones that made an impact.

“Try me,” Derek smirked.

“I warned you,” with a long-suffering unnecessary sigh, he continued, “after I woke up, one of the vampires brought me something… someone really and I didn’t want to but I was so hungry and—” He covered his face with his free hand, “I didn’t mean to kill her,” Stiles all but whimpered. “I really didn’t but I was so, _so_ hungry.” His voice dropped to a growl, low, almost predatory. Derek felt a shiver run down his spine. 

“Stiles,” he didn’t get any further as Stiles went on as if Derek hadn’t even spoken.

“They forced me to take the first sip, I wasn’t strong enough to resist, and then I couldn’t stop.” Stiles yanked his hand out of Derek’s as he stood up, tone pleading. “I didn’t want to but I couldn’t help it, it was like something was forcing me to continue, I hated it. I couldn’t regain control of my own fucking body!”

“I understand.” Those words seemed to stop Stiles in his attempt to burn a hole in the carpet, coming to a halt in front of Derek, wide-eyed and lips slightly parted. “I’ve lost control before too, Stiles, not as bad as that but every supernatural loses control at some point and it doesn’t always end well, but at least you have it back now.”

“You don’t hate me for it?” Derek shook his head and then, because he felt Stiles needed to hear it, vocalised his disagreement to ever hating Stiles.

There was a long, awkward pause in which Stiles went back to pacing before it was broken with: “How do you walk in the sun?”  
  
Stiles pulled out the necklace, “This, I got it from Deaton right after I got away. Not only does it stop you from knowing I no longer have a heartbeat and covers my new scent but also stops the sun from harming me. Although the legends are a bit overdramatic, I wouldn’t literally burn to death, I’d just get severely harmed. So…” He shrugged.

“And how did you get away?” Derek asked slowly, trying not to seem like the brute he knew he usually appeared to be.

“I’m not entirely sure, to be honest, it’s kind of a blur. I remember annoying them a lot and taking a few out and then I was at Deaton’s clinic and he helped me.”

“You can tell The Pack,” Derek said after another pause.

“I know, I just don’t know how they’ll take it, Lydia said they’d be fine but…” He trailed off then laughed stiffly, “I guess she has even more grounds to get me to tell them now.”  
  
“Because I know?” Derek couldn’t help but ask.

“Yeah well, you not liking vampires was one of my main excuses to not tell them.” Derek wasn’t entirely sure what to make of that. Did that mean Stiles values his opinion of him or just that Stiles was fishing for ways to get out of telling The Pack? It must mean something though, otherwise, Stiles would’ve come up with another reason. Also, what reason did Stiles have to lie to Lydia?

He must’ve let his confusion slip onto his face as Stiles went on, “I mean, I had other reasons but you not liking what I am was a big one because you’re our alpha and I didn’t really want to get kicked out or anything…” He kept rambling but Derek didn’t hear anything else because he felt like an idiot for even momentarily believing that Stiles could care about what he thought of him for any reason other than because he was the alpha. Why would Stiles care? Derek never showed him any specific kindness. They may get along okay _now_ , but Stiles used to hate Derek. And for good reason: Derek wasn’t particularly kind to him. He may not have ever deliberately hurt him but he was never particularly pleasant towards him either. 

“...Well, then there’s the fact that I actually like you and we’re like,” he pauses, “close acquaintances, now? Not for lack of trying on my part but, dude, you’re all grouch and no fun sometimes!” Stiles threw his hands in the air and Derek finally registered what he had said. He hadn’t really expected Stiles to think of him as any more than an asshole that he had to deal with.

“Stiles,” Derek cut in causing the teen to look over at him, “what do you mean by that?”  
  
“By what?” he tilted his head, “Oh, you mean _‘not for lack of trying’_? Just that I have tried to be friends with you, it just never really worked out.” The alpha let out a dejected huff of air, he hadn’t really noticed Stiles advances. And when he had, he had thought that Stiles didn’t actually want to be his friend; he assumed he just felt bad for him. Stiles was too good to be Derek’s anything – and too human, he’d end up hurt. But Stiles was no longer human and he had already been damaged by everything, seemingly including Derek’s insubordination when it came to wanting more than whatever the fuck they were at the moment.

He took a deep breath and didn’t let himself think anymore as he knew he’d talk himself out of it, “We can be friends if that’s what you wish.” Maybe he wanted more but friends was a good start.

Stiles smiled, “Really?” Derek nodded stiffly and Stiles muttered, “I knew I’d get you somehow.” Derek let out a snort of laughter for the first time in a long while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed!


	3. The Truth.

*********

“It’ll be fine,” Lydia said on a long-suffering sigh as it had to have been the fifth time since they got here she’d had to tell Stiles that. Stiles knew she was right, especially considering how well it went with his dad. 

He had waited until he and Noah would have time to sit down and talk without him having to go to work halfway through. Unfortunately for Stiles, that had been the day after Derek had found out.

As soon as they had both sat down for dinner – he could still eat normal food as long as he kept up a healthy diet of blood – The Sheriff had known something was wrong and had told Stiles as such. It had taken him a few minutes and several attempts before he’d finally decided to just say it flat out. He had expected yelling or storming out or threats to be made about him cutting communication to The Pack or something, _anything_ except what he did get as a response. The elder man chuckled softly and at first Stiles thought that his dad hadn’t taken him seriously but that wasn’t the case at all. In fact, he was then informed that Noah had known for a while, or at least suspected, but was waiting for Stiles to tell him. 

After Stiles calmed down from laughing because he was apparently really bad at keeping secrets – which he found all the more hilarious when he remembered how long he’d kept the supernatural from his dad originally – he asked his dad what gave it away. It turned out his dad had been looking for an old jewellery box that his mother, Claudia, owned and when he couldn’t find it in his own room he had checked Stiles’. He’d seen the cooler, found the blood and panicked at first. He had thought it was human until he noticed the rats. After a bit of thought, he decided not to ask Stiles, as he was worried Stiles wouldn’t want to tell him, so instead went to talk to Deaton. Deaton had told him everything in vague detail, leaving him with more questions than he’d come to the man with but thought it best to wait for Stiles to be ready.

Stiles was glad his dad knew, they felt closer than ever, and it lifted a weight off his shoulders. He’d known where the box was and given it to his dad and that was that. Though The Sheriff had a few questions and concerns, Stiles managed to answer them all. Noah was delighted to learn that Deaton was working on a way for Stiles to age because he wanted Stiles to be able to have as normal of a life as possible. He was also not at all surprised to find out Lydia had gone the more ambitious route and was looking for a “cure” – they both preferred to call it a ‘way out’, as Lydia had had to remind him constantly, Stiles was not damaged.

So Stiles had high hopes for telling the rest of The Pack, knowing that if things were to go wrong he’d still have his father. Lydia and Derek also didn’t hurt. 

“Yeah, I know but I can’t help but be worried nonetheless.” There was no backing out now though, basically, the whole Pack was inside, waiting. That thought did nothing for Stiles’ nerves.

Derek pulled the door open and leaned against it, “You coming in?” With a hesitant nod, Stiles followed after Derek, Lydia not far behind.

“Stiles, are you okay?” Isaac asked, eyes assessing as he pushed a curl of hair from his eyes.

“Yeah, I’m okay, Pup.” He cleared his throat, reminding himself of what his dad told him: “If they don’t accept you, they were never really your friends.” He sat down, looking over at everyone. Well almost everyone; Jackson and Ethan were somewhere else (Stiles wasn’t sure where exactly) and Kira was out with her family but it didn’t matter because he could tell them the next time he saw them and it would be easier. Though he and Jackson didn’t hate each other, Stiles still struggled to get along with him. “I need to tell you all something.” 

He waited until everyone was sitting, paying attention before he said anything. Once that happened he took a deep, relaxing breath and said, “So, I need you to listen to everything before you freak out.” Everyone promised to do so looking progressively more concerned as Stiles spoke. “Remember when the vampires came to town a few months ago?” When he got nods from everyone he went on to tell them all what happened – from him going outside until they turned him – Derek and Lydia stepping in when necessary. It took a few moments of watching everyone’s stunned faces before he could tell them about the human and never wanting to drink human blood again. He expressed his guilt for his actions but explained to them how he couldn’t help it. By this point Derek was sitting next to him, holding his hand in an attempt to ground him.

“I didn’t tell you until now because I was scared you would hate me or kick me out of The Pack or something.” Slowly, everyone reassured him, in their own way, that it didn’t change much or anything at all. Some said it might take a bit of getting used to but that was the worst response he got, bar Scott not saying anything at all, he decided to ignore it on the pretence that it might take Scott a few moments to process the new information. Most of them had questions and Stiles did his best to answer all of them. 

It was Isaac who asked: “So what about the whole ageing thing?” Stiles reiterated what he told his father with confidence that they would find a way. Lydia chipped in with her own information and Isaac offered to help as much as he could.

“Don’t,” was the first thing Scott said, all heads turned to him.

“Huh?” Isaac asked, confused by his boyfriends’ command.

“I said don’t, he’s a vampire, he _kills_ to survive.” Stiles joined Isaac in his confusion and the grip Derek had on Stiles’ hand tightened until it would’ve crushed any human’s.

“What are you trying to say, Scott? That me being a vampire changes things for you? I don’t drink human blood, it’s all animal which is no worse than cooking and eating them.” Scott shot up, Stiles joining him quickly.

“Stiles, you killed an innocent person.”

“You think I wanted to?” Stiles’ voice betrayed none of the real hurt he was feeling, surprising him only slightly.

“Yes, there’s always a choice! You could’ve tried to stop just like you--” Scott cut himself off, obviously realising what he said just seconds too late.

“No, go on, what was it you were going to say? That I could’ve tried to stop just like I could’ve tried to stop when I was possessed or when I killed Donovan. Was that what you were going to say?” This time he couldn’t hold back his emotions, not that it mattered anyway; Scott knew him well enough to know when he was hurting. Although he apparently didn’t know him well enough to know that he would never kill if he had a choice, or enough to notice the changes that he knew he had exhibited over the past few months.

Scott didn’t back down even when Isaac dragged at his hand, “Yes, it was. And it’s true, you could’ve tried harder.” Stiles snorted loudly but it lacked any amusement.

“Oh, because your hands are so clean. I could’ve stopped it just as much as you could’ve. Oh, no wait, you _could_ have but you were too fucking scared.” He knew by saying this he could be dragging others into the mix but he also knew that they were at least smart enough to know it was true.

At Scott’s indignant, “What did you want me to do, kill you?” Stiles blood boiled.

“Yes, it clearly would’ve saved you _so_ much trouble. Obviously, it would’ve been worth it, saved so many people and would’ve prevented your supposed best friend from becoming a monster.” His voice rose in volume, he roared the last word, it echoed throughout the loft leaving a deafening silence in its wake. 

No one was sure on what they should say; everyone knowing the words were true, to Scott at least. Stiles had continued to treat Scott as his friend yet Scott had not shown Stiles the same courtesy ever since he was freed from the prison he’d been kept in while possessed.

“Scott,” Lydia’s voice broke the spell as she stood. “Stop, you’re in the wrong and you know it.” It was evident that he did not ‘know it’ but the words were one last invitation to fix things.

“No, I’m not. How can you all sit there and listen to this-- this murderer? He’s cost us too much, I say we kick him out of The Pack!” Unbelieving, Stiles stumbled back a step, his heartbeat would’ve been pounding in his ears had he had one. There was no way the guy he’d been best friends with for so long had said the words he’d just heard. 

Derek caught him, preventing him from hitting the floor, arms wrapping around his waist to stop him from fleeing as well as to provide support. Stiles didn’t even stop to question how the wolf knew exactly what he needed, just leaned into the touch. “I think it might be you that needs to leave.” The low growl rumbled in Derek’s core. Stiles shivered.

Scott rose an eyebrow, “Why?”  
  
“Because I don’t think you being in this Pack will work.” Derek pulled Stiles closer, “I said _leave!_ ” Though the words were too close to Stiles’ ear, Stiles was glad to hear them.

“Seriously, you’re gonna stick up for a vampire?” Derek nodded as did everyone else Scott looked at. “You’ll regret this.” The worst part was that Scott’s heart didn’t skip a beat.

He turned to Isaac, “Come on, let’s get outta here.” The younger boy looked him up and down in pained disgust and shook his head.

“I think I’d rather not.” Scott looked genuinely hurt and it made a twisted hateful part of Stiles happy.

“Why not?” as if it was not obvious.

“Because I refuse to date someone who can’t even be loyal to his friend. How the hell do you expect me to believe you’re loyal to me?” Stiles felt the urge to hug the teen wolf when his voice broke, snapping harshly.

The change in Scott’s demeanour was so quick it was almost comical. The suffering look twisted, morphing into one something akin to mirth, eyes screaming his betrayal. Stiles stared, incredulous, “You didn’t.” He pulled away from Derek who did not resist as a deep chorus of growls filled the room, Isaac’s eyes wide and brimming with tears. “You would not stoop so low. Please tell me you would not stoop that low.”

Scott did not answer but the look in his eyes said enough. “With who?” It was definitely not someone in this room, no one smelled of guilt and everyone loved Isaac too much to hurt him in that way. So it only left three people assuming it was not anyone outside of The Pack: Jackson, Ethan and Kira. Jackson and Ethan were inseparable, so Stiles highly doubted it was one of them which left Kira. But Kira was so upbeat and lovable and sweet, she would never. Surely. 

Appearances could be deceiving, Scott proved that, but by that logic, it could be anyone else in the room… Stiles knew that Scott did reek of Kira sometimes though he had assumed that they were just close friends. Yet Scott never smelled of anyone other than Isaac as he did of Kira. So… “Kira. You cheated on Isaac with _Kira_ and she went along with it?”

“She loved it, sneaking around, said it was fun.” He smirked and before anyone could do anything and before Stiles could even blink, Isaac had darted from where he was standing and pounced. They both fell to the ground hard. Isaac’s fists flew and no one moved to stop him, not Danny (who was rather new to The Pack) or Lydia or Corey.

Liam was the only one who looked conflicted, standing up and trying to pull the furious boy off Scott. No one objected to that either. They all knew Isaac’s reaction wasn’t necessarily the best way to handle the situation, despite this none of them cared. Scott had shredded the relationship, had broken an only recently fixed boy, had set his trust alight, had taken advantage of his weaknesses and had done it all without a single thought as to how badly it would ruin Isaac. So when it was Liam and not them that stopped the teen from destroying Scott in a physical representation of what he felt pulsing beneath his skin, no one complained. 

Isaac still got a few good hits in though, hits that were disappearing disappointingly quickly. Lydia tugged the grieving werewolf into her arms and led him away, soon followed by Danny after he got nudged by Mason.

Scott groaned as Liam pulled him up, “Thanks.”

Liam didn’t look sure as he said, “No problem.”

“You really should leave before I finish what Isaac started.” To everyone’s surprise, it came from the staircase: Peter. He had been listening, observing, from his usual spot. Despite often joining in on – or intruding as some of The Pack put it – some of The Pack nights and chiming in at a few Pack meetings he still struggled with the whole ‘ _doing things for other people_ ’ thing. So the fact that he, sort of subtly, offered to kill or at least brutally maim Scott for Isaac really said something.

“Fine,” Scott turned, shooting Liam a look causing the younger teen to follow him as he strode towards the door.

“Liam, don’t follow him. If you follow him I’m sorry but you will not be welcomed back.” Derek warned. Liam stopped, looking between Scott who had come to a halt by the door and Derek.

“Liam, you know what he did was wrong, don’t go with him.” Mason’s sad eyes met Liam’s. “I know you feel like you owe him because he changed you and saved your life but you don’t. Not anymore. He’s not worth it.” At Liam’s confused face he went on, “You have a Pack – a family that loves you, don’t throw that away.” With a nod, Liam started back towards Mason.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” Before Scott could corrupt the younger werewolf anymore than he already had Stiles interrupted him.

“I think you were told to leave.” Baring his teeth, he hissed, “So leave!” Scott fled without another word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, I'm sorry to any Scissac shippers (I love them too) but it had to happen. :(


	4. The Aftermath.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek takes Stiles home.

**~~~~~**

Stiles lay down on the couch, eyelids heavy, as vampires did need sleep, just not as much as humans. Derek sat down, lifting Stiles’ head and placing it in his lap then running slow, calming fingers through the tangled mess of hair (Stiles had threaded his fingers through it a lot during the argument, successfully tying it in knots). “Stiles?”

“That could’ve gone worse,” Stiles' unsure eyes met Derek’s, desperate for some form of confirmation but Derek had nothing to say. He decided on nodding, wishing he had more to say to the beautiful boy, wishing he could hurt Scott for hurting not only Stiles but Isaac too. But that wasn’t for him to do, if Stiles or Isaac wanted to hurt Scott he wouldn’t stop them but, unless necessary, he would hold back.

“He’s an asshole,” Mason stated, everyone nodded in agreement but Stiles’ face just became even more contorted with pain. “Why would he do that?” No one had an answer, not that one was needed; it had already been answered.

“Danny is taking Isaac back to his place, I suggested he stay for a Pack night but he said he just needs to be away for a few days,” Lydia said as she strode back into the room, Danny and Isaac slipping out the door quietly. Derek couldn’t help but notice Lydia seemed to lack the confidence she usually carried herself with, had replaced it with exhaustion. 

The Pack slowly came back to themselves, still not right, still unsure and all in shock. Derek doubted they knew how to respond to a situation like this and assumed it would take them a while to really register what had happened. But he wasn’t particularly worried about them right now. No, it was Stiles he was concerned about. Every time someone tried to ask Stiles how he was feeling he pulled further into himself. And every time someone looked his way he pushed further into Derek’s hand, still in his hair, as if desperate to get away. This went on until Stiles’ eyes finally met Derek’s in a silent plea. “Come on.” Derek kept his voice low but he knew Stiles heard him.

Stiles stood, Derek following, quickly taking hold of Stiles’ waist as he swayed violently. “Where are you going, Batman?” Erica’s voice seemed to pierce Stiles’ crumbling form, Derek’s grip tightened, afraid Stiles would fall.

“Home,” Stiles made to move but Erica’s voice stopped him once again.

“Stay, we’ll have Pack cuddles and watch movies, it’ll make you feel better. You don’t have to listen to that asshole, he’s wrong.” Derek knew she meant well but he could tell it wasn’t helping. In fact, it was probably doing the exact opposite.

“Thanks, Catwoman, but I just want to go home. Maybe next time, alright?” And before anyone else could argue, they left.

**~~~~~**

Stiles threw himself down on his bed, Derek cautiously lay down next to him, worried Stiles wouldn’t want him to stay. All worries disappeared, though, when Stiles curled around him causing a flicker of warmth to tingle up Derek’s whole body. “How are you holding up?” He kept his voice low, hushed, hoping Stiles would understand that if he didn’t want to talk about it, he didn’t have to. 

It stayed quiet for a long time, the same kind of quiet that had filled the car on their way here: comfortable but blistering. 

Finally, Stiles spoke, “I’ve been worse, I just can’t believe he’d say that… or do any of what he did.” His voice broke but he went on, “He used to be so sweet and accepting of everything. Like the time I came out to him as bisexual, he was so supportive and happy for me.” Derek had never even thought about Stiles’ sexuality. After he’d found out Stiles was a vampire he’d come to terms with his feelings for the younger man (it had only been two days since then) and had come up with a list of reasons as to why they could never happen. For some reason, Stiles not being into men in that way had never crossed his mind. 

Now that he thought about it though, he wasn’t at all shocked. Stiles had never tried to hide it with the obvious staring at Derek’s chest when he was shirtless and sometimes at the others too. “And--” Stiles’ voice cracked again pulling Derek out of his thoughts, he wound an arm around Stiles. “And when my mom died, he was there for me and when I was diagnosed with ADHD he didn’t treat me differently like some of the other kids at school. And he was always there for me just like I was for him.” A tear fell down Stiles’ cheek, onto Derek’s chest, he wiped his face furiously. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, Stiles. What he did, how he acted, it was wrong and you being upset isn’t something you should be sorry for.” Finding words now was so much easier, it being just the two of them (the Sheriff was at work) _made_ it easier. “You did a lot for him and he was like a brother to you and he threw that away because of some ridiculous prejudices. He’s an idiot.”

Stiles smiled weakly, “How come you’re so good at talking when it’s just us?” Of course, Stiles hadn’t missed it, he didn’t miss anything. But Derek had no idea what to say, he could tell him the truth but then Stiles would reject him and he didn’t know if he could handle that. Lying wouldn’t work as Stiles would know, having super hearing now. Maybe a half-truth?

“I feel comfortable when it’s just you.” That worked, it wasn’t a lie but it wasn’t the whole truth either.

“I’m glad. It goes both ways, by the way,” Derek smirked but he was genuinely pleased with himself. There was a long pause and then, “I don’t know what to do, I feel like I should be sad but I just kind of feel numb. Like it wasn’t that much of a shock but it should’ve been… It really should’ve been.” This seemed slightly contradictory to what he’d said earlier but Derek didn’t question it, assuming he was just working through everything going on in his head. His emotions taking time to catch up with his thoughts, “What do I do?”

“I can’t tell you that, Sti, I wish I could but it’s up to you. You can always talk to me, you know?” Derek hated not being able to help Stiles. He hoped just being there would be enough because he never really talked about his feelings so he didn’t know how to guide Stiles with talking about his own.

Stiles ran a finger in careful spirals over Derek’s chest, moving in three points until Derek realised it was a triskelion, “I should hate him but I can’t. I should hate him for what he did to me and for what he did to Isaac but to hate him would make this all too real.” Derek nodded understandingly, reaching up to comb his fingers through Stiles’ hair. He got what Stiles meant; Derek had also struggled to hate Kate after what she did, partly because he blamed himself and partly because he simply couldn’t. It was too _hard_. Then when he had let himself hate her it had consumed him, taken ahold of his entire being and ripped him to shreds all over again. 

He had not only hated himself for dating her, falling into her trap and hated her for existing and tricking him but also Peter for not being there. It wasn’t even remotely Peter’s fault as he had been in a coma but he had done nonetheless. That was too much hate for one person. And that mixed with the guilt and the grief and the pain of losing his family had caused him to practically self-destruct. Living in a burnt down house, in complete isolation from everyone, refusing to seek help; it had ruined him. He refused to let that happen to Stiles. He could not let this amazing boy disappear into a cloud of hatred and sorrow as he had done. 

So he told him not to let the hate in, he told him that despite what others might say or think, it was better not to, he told him that if he felt like it was ever too much he should talk. Talk to Derek or his dad or Lydia, someone logical, someone rational. And maybe Derek wasn’t either of those things but he was _going_ to be there for Stiles and let no one stop him. 

They fell asleep after that, Stiles’ tears dried and Derek held him close, afraid he’d slip away and be gone forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed!


	5. Boyfriends?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A chat with dad. :)

**=====**

When the Sheriff came home all he wanted to do was go upstairs and sleep for weeks. He’d had a long day at work and between a new case and a new cop to keep an eye on he had been completely run down. When he got upstairs though he decided to check on Stiles. He both hoped his boy wasn’t awake, as Stiles didn’t get enough sleep as it was, and hoped that he was so that they could talk about how it went. Stiles had been really unsure about telling the rest of his Pack and it had taken a lot of coaxing on everyone who knew’s part before he finally agreed. It hadn’t taken too long.

Noah wanted to know how it went and how everyone reacted, especially Scott, so he knew he’d made the right decision in telling his kid that they would love him no matter what. More importantly, he wanted to make sure that Stiles was okay. But he also knew that telling the truth to the people you love was sometimes more crucial than how you think they’ll react. Knowing he helped Stiles be confident enough to tell such a big thing to people that meant so much to him made him happy. What made him fill with pride was the fact that Stiles  _ had  _ been brave and strong enough to do such a thing.

He wasn’t particularly fond of the fact that Derek had helped talk him into telling his Pack. In fact, he just wasn’t particularly fond of Derek in general. The way he looked at Stiles and the way he just sort of lingered, quietly whilst he did so, not to mention the way he acted so…  _ different _ around him, it was unnerving. He was also so much  _ older  _ than Stiles. That and the fact that Noah had once had to arrest the younger man on suspicion of murder. Although Stiles had cleared all that up, he still got an odd feeling about him sometimes. 

He shook his head as he knocked gently on Stiles’ door and, after getting no response, pushed it open to peek in. Stiles was half sprawled over someone. Noah peered at the man, it took a moment for him to realise that it was Derek. The revelation caused him to pull the door shut quickly. An onslaught of questions filling his mind: why was his son sleeping on top of Derek Hale? Hell, had Derek finally asked him out or was it a Pack thing? If it was a Pack thing where was the rest of The Pack? Had it not gone well? No, because Lydia would be there. Maybe Stiles just needed some comfort or maybe he’d backed out entirely.

But what if it was that he and Derek were dating? He wasn't sure how he would feel about that. Maybe he'd be fine with it, maybe he wouldn't. It's not like Derek was a particularly safe person, he wasn’t explicitly dangerous either but he had the potential to be. But Noah knew better than anyone – being a sheriff and all – that anyone and everyone had the potential to be dangerous so he couldn't live his life scared of everyone his boy would date.

That thought didn't stop him from worrying though. That was his job – to worry. He always had and always would. And it wasn't like the idea of Derek being a bad guy was completely ludicrous; he had, after all, dragged Stiles and the rest of his Pack into trouble before. Granted that was, apparently, because of his inability to listen despite his superior sense. 

He knew, though, it didn't matter what he thought because Stiles wouldn't listen to him. The last thing he wanted was to get into an argument with his kid over his maybe-boyfriend. It was better for everyone if the two Stilinski men stuck together, as if he was right, and Derek ended up hurting Stiles, he would need to be there. And if he was wrong (as he hoped he was) then he wouldn't want to be pushed out of Stiles' life because he fucked up.

He sighed, annoyed and wishing even more than he had in a long time, that Claudia was there to help out. She would’ve known exactly what to do and if Noah was right. She had always been an excellent judge of character.

He went to bed that night head swimming with questions that would have to wait until morning and extremely glad that he didn’t have a shift until after lunch tomorrow.

*********

Stiles woke up, head lying on something that was definitely not his pillow. Lifting a hand, he ran it along the thing feeling it shift and flex under his fingertips. A low groan sounded above him and that's when he remembered last night and, in addition to that, he remembered  _ Scott _ . 

"Stiles?" Arms tightened around his waist as the deep, sleep-rough voice rumbled in Derek's chest. The young vamp looked up at his night's “pillow”, forgetting, momentarily, what had happened yesterday, and giggled in a way that sounded both childish and awkward. A slight heat crept under the skin of his cheeks – vampires can blush? – so he buried his face in Derek's chest. “Hi,” A deep chuckle tumbled past Derek’s lips, the sound resonating within Stiles.

“Hi,” Stiles said back before pulling himself off of Derek – it was harder than he had anticipated, almost as if he was being pulled back down by a force stronger than gravity. He shook it off and grabbed some clean clothes, mumbling that if Derek could find anything that fit, he could wear it before heading to the bathroom to change.

After he came out, he and Derek went downstairs (Derek now clad in one of his larger shirts) to have breakfast. Stiles rambled on and on trying to ignore the persistent, unpleasant tugging on his heart – a constant reminder of what had happened yesterday.

To his surprise, his dad was seated at the table, three full plates laid around the table almost as if… well, shit. “Hey!” Stiles beamed to cover his slight uncomfortable shift.

“Hi, kid.” Noah paused as if unsure what to say next, but Stiles didn’t doubt that he had thought over exactly what he wanted to say hundreds of times, judging by the bags under his eyes that were a bit too big to have just been caused by a late shift. “I would ask you what happened yesterday,” Stiles felt Derek’s presence behind him and knew that the man was trying to show him some form of comfort. “But I think I’d like to start with why Derek Hale was in your room last night.” When neither said anything for a beat too long the Sheriff went on, “Look, if you two are dating, I’m okay with that but I would like to warn you, Derek, that if you hurt Stiles--” Stiles’ eyes had grown wide as his dad continued to speak, Derek going tense behind him. 

If Stiles was honest with himself, he’d never really let himself even  _ think  _ about dating Derek. It just wasn’t in any realm of possibility. He hadn’t even thought Derek  _ liked  _ him enough to be his friend until a few days ago, so the idea of dating him? It was absurd! But Stiles also wasn’t blind. He’d noticed the ever so slight scent of sour disappointment on the man when Stiles had agreed to be friends and the fact that Derek was always aware of him, never bothered by him despite what others might think, always gentle. Even when shoving him against walls. He hadn’t missed the way Derek had been there, right behind him when he needed him to be. Hadn’t missed the obvious tension that had grown between them at his father’s words.

But he’d chalked that all down to Derek being a better guy than he had initially thought or him imagining things. He’d never thought it meant anything, never thought he would feel anything other than platonic feelings for the guy but now he was second-guessing everything. From the way he’d so desperately wanted Derek’s approval of him, having it be a big arguing point against telling The Pack, to the pull he’d felt this morning. It would make sense. Maybe it didn’t, though. Maybe he was thinking too much into this. Maybe he was deluding himself. But maybe… just maybe, he wasn’t.

Either way, it didn’t matter right now (well it did, but he didn’t want to think about while both Derek and his dad were in the room). Right now what mattered was the fact that his dad was about to threaten Derek for something that hadn’t happened. Or was never going to happen. So he stopped him, limbs flailing in a way only he could manage despite his newly found vampire grace, voice tumbling over itself in a desperate attempt to reach and ultimately draw his dad’s words to an abrupt halt before it was too late. 

Once his dad had stopped, Stiles said, “It’s not like that, dad, we were just talking and I umm… kinda fell asleep, on him?” He cursed his voice for failing him, drastically, twisting his words into a question.

“Right, sure.” 

“I’m not lying!” Stiles squawked, indignantly, at his father’s sarcastic tone.

“He’s not, sir.” Derek tried to back him up while he moved forward to stand next to Stiles. Though with the way he leaned towards the younger boy it wasn’t a very strong case.

The Sheriff rolled his eyes, “Whatever you say, son. So, how  _ did  _ it go yesterday?” He gestured towards two empty chairs and they both sat, Stiles glad to do so as he felt his knees go weak.

“Okay?” He really needed to get better at not sounding like he was questioning everything while under pressure.

“Who do I need to kill?” Of course, his dad knew, he always did. 

When Stiles’ voice caught in his throat, tugging and tearing, feeling as sharp as needles on his tongue, Derek took over, “Scott, and possibly Kira. Depending on how much you like Isaac.” Noah raised an eyebrow.

“Scott, as in, Stiles’ best friend Scott?” They both nodded at that, Stiles’ head feeling like a lead weight on his neck as he did so; thinking about yesterday was overwhelming. “But, why?” The concern in his eyes was strong, scary, palpable in a way that seemed too much for one man. And when Stiles and Derek explained what had happened the night before, the concern bent, almost mutating, into anger. Pure, solid anger. And when they went on to tell him what Scott had done to Isaac, he’d thrown his chair back, standing up to pace in a way that reminded Stiles of himself. 

There was so much to unpack in his scent, it was frustrating. Rage, being the main one but lying just underneath that was disappointment at Scott, Stiles knew, who had been something akin to another son for the man. And there was sadness at losing the boy, confusion as to why he would do that and something Stiles could not work out. Something bitter-sweet, almost like the sharp taste of liquorice.

Noah tried to start a sentence, got two syllables in and then trailed off. “I am going to kill him. I’m going to  _ kill  _ him!” finally burst from him and before either of the still-seated supernaturals had a chance to stop him, Noah was out the door, yanking his shoes on with abject gracelessness and jumping into his cruiser.

“Well… that went well.” Derek hummed in agreement, still staring out the window.


	6. Scott McCall.

**+++++** ****

The sound of knocking resonated through the house, deafening in the beautiful silence. All Melissa wanted to do was have a well-deserved lie-in. Scott was out, she had the day off and all she wanted to do was _sleep_.

The knock rang out again and she groaned, rolling out of bed and sliding into a pair of fluffy slippers before slumping downstairs. She didn’t remember anyone saying they’d be round but here they were, nonetheless.

Yanking the door open, she said around a yawn, “I have a shift tomorrow and the day off today, make it quick.”

“Sorry, Melissa. I’m looking for Scott.” She peeled her eyes open to match the face to the voice that seemed too deep to really belong to Noah. With a stretch, she let him in deciding to ignore the thought.

“He’s out and _I_ was sleeping, so this better be good.” She glared her best mom-glare at him and it seemed to work as he rushed to explain.

“It is. Well, not good, but important.” Melissa rose an eyebrow.

“If it’s important and about Scott, I’d like to know.” She paused, her sleep-addled mind still catching up to the rest of the world, as she pieced everything together. Thinking back to how Scott had rushed in yesterday, red-faced and refusing to talk. “Has this got anything to do with why Scott was acting off yesterday?” Noah nodded, almost gravely. Melissa felt like she’d just swallowed a stone; lump in her throat thick as her mind raced, suddenly much more awake. 

She led them both into the lounge, sitting on the edge of the couch, elbows on knees, as Noah sat in an armchair. “Well?” she prompted.

Noah sighed, and it sounded pained, “Stiles and I were talking, and he told me some… _things._ ” The stone hit Melissa’s stomach. “To start at the beginning, Stiles is a vampire.” She blinked, then laughed. This was a joke, that was it, Noah was messing with her. A bit of a messed up joke, all things considered, but a joke nevertheless.

She’d known Stiles since… well since he was born. Her and Claudia had been great friends! So she was sure Stiles was not a vampire – a bloodsucker… a monster. 

She shook her head, “Seriously, Noah.” but Noah’s expression had only darkened, a strong protectiveness in his eyes and Melissa knew she was missing something.

“I am being serious.” All mirth left her body, draining out as quickly as it had flooded in. she let out a quiet _‘oh’_ sound, Noah nodded but he didn’t seem disappointed. “He only drinks animal blood, before you ask, and we’re looking for ways to help him age and live a normal life.” Melissa let her head dip, feeling ashamed of what she had previously thought. Of course, Stiles _would_ find a way to be as just as possible in a situation like this, he was Claudia’s son after all. And she had a son that was a werewolf; she should know better. 

Though she was left not knowing what to say, what do you say to a man whose child is technically dead? ‘I’m sorry’ didn’t seem right as he didn’t look as though he was grieving. But neither did ‘he’ll be alright’. So she just waited, waited to see how this would link back to Scott. “It happened a few months ago when a coven came to town. Stiles only just became comfortable enough to talk about it with his Pack yesterday. Most were okay with it and for that Stiles was glad but…” He trailed off but Melissa’s mind was whirring, once again. Noah had said _‘most’_ which meant that someone wasn’t. Noah had also come here looking for Scott, claiming it was important and he hadn’t sounded pleased. But Scott wouldn’t, would he?

Stiles and him had been best friends for as long as she could remember, Scott loved Stiles like a brother. He would never do anything to hurt him. Yes, their relationship had become a bit strained over the past year but that had never stopped them from being close. Scott had always referred to Stiles as his brother, had talked about how he missed just being able to hang out with him. But even brothers could fight. They had had their moments, usually caused by something Scott said, unfortunately. That had never mattered though, they had always – _always_ – made it through, always patched things up. And if Scott had done what she hoped he hadn’t, then there may be no coming back.

Finally, she managed to formulate a coherent: “Scott?”.

“Yes, Melissa, Scott did not take it well, to put it mildly.” The breath of air she took in felt too cold, “He accused him of things that were not his fault, he called Stiles – _my_ boy – a _murderer!_ But that’s not the only thing,” Melissa gaped, how could there be more. “As you probably know Scott and Isaac were dating, in the argument, Scott revealed that he had been cheating on the poor boy for only the gods know how long.” And all the air left her in a rush.

It was like someone had put her in a vacuum or – more accurately – like she’d been hit by a bullet train. She had raised her kid better than that! _Her_ child would never betray not only his best friend but also his boyfriend. There was just no way. She refused to believe it. The Sheriff must be mistaken, he just _must_ be. 

Alright, she knew Scott wasn’t perfect and he certainly was not always in the right; he made mistakes a little too often. And he had had a traumatic teenage life with the whole supernatural thing which did lead to a few hiccups here and there. And maybe he had said some questionable things to Stiles before but he would never hurt him like this. His heart was always in the right place, he always tried his best and he loved Stiles. 

He loved Isaac, too, had told her as much not so long ago. Had told her that he wanted to marry the other teen when they were both ready. He would not throw that away, he knew better than to throw that away. And in such a brutal way, to an already damaged boy? Scott – her Scott – just didn’t have it in him. He couldn’t, surely. He wouldn’t.

“No, you must be mistaken, Noah.” There just was no other explanation.

“I’m sorry but I’m not.” He shook his head but his eyes remained on Melissa’s, solemn and stoic. Despite her best efforts, she could find no lie, nothing she couldn’t trust hidden behind those pale blue eyes.

“Then Stiles must be!” because if Noah wasn’t then _someone_ was and if Noah got his information from Stiles then it must be him.

Noah did not look offended, his eyes only softened, “Stiles wouldn’t lie, not about this.” But he needed to have been! He needed to have lied because she didn’t want to believe it. “I know it’s hard, but it’s true, Melissa. That’s why I need to talk to him.” She shook her head, the realisation that this was, in fact, a reality setting in with a harsh pang of guilt and disappointment and a weird twist of grief. 

“No,” she muttered the word, again and again, starting out as a denial to herself and morphing into one aimed at the man sat opposite her. “I’ll talk to him. Alone. He is my son and I need to know what’s going on, there has to be more to this.” She had to be the one to do it, had to know if it was something she had done and if it wasn’t her then what?

**+++++**

Noah had agreed to let Melissa talk to Scott with an understanding that if the next time he saw the boy anywhere near his home and he was not there to apologize and beg for forgiveness, then Noah would not be responsible for his actions. She didn’t blame him – was scared by the thought of her _werewolf_ son in the hands of a sheriff with heavy wolfsbane knowledge? Yes, but Scott had fucked up so she could not _blame_ Noah.

So now she had to wait, she knew there was no point in trying to find Scott and could not find it in herself to even attempt to get back to sleep, so she sat and thought over what she would say. Sat and waited.

She waited for a long while before she heard the rumbling of Scott’s motorcycle. The engine shut off, footsteps, keys rattling then the door swung open, shut with a quiet _click_ and Scott waltzed in. “Hey, Mom. I would’ve thought that you would still be asleep on your day off. You need to rest.” Melissa tried to keep herself steady, tried not to let her emotions slip through into her scent, knowing Scott would notice. But would he?

“I woke up early and couldn’t get back to sleep.” That wasn’t technically a lie. “Listen, Scott, we need to talk.”

“Yeah, Mom, but not right now okay. I was kinda hoping to get the last of my summer vacation homework done so I wouldn’t have to worry about it.” Maybe she would’ve let him go for that but she knew that he’d already finished it last week.

“No, it has to be now.” 

“Why?” He whined and drew the last letter out for longer than necessary.

“Because I said so. Now, please, sit down.” Scott huffed but complied anyway. “Why did you do it?” 

“What?” genuine confusion pulled at his features but she didn’t take that.

“You know what, Scott.” When he just proceeded to look puzzled she went on to explain, telling him she knew what had happened yesterday. She told him how it had made her feel to find out what he had done and how badly he needed to fix it, now. All throughout her speech, Scott sat there quietly mulling everything over as if he hadn’t just screwed over two of the most important people in the world, to him. As if he was just getting told off for taking another cookie from the cookie jar.

“Look, Scott, I love you but you’ve made a mistake and I want to at least know why.” She finished on a loud exhale and Scott nodded slowly.

“Well, I’m not going to try and fix it as I’ve done nothing wrong.” A slow smirk replaced the innocence that belonged on his face, a chill spilt over her spine. “He’s the one that’s a monster, a killer. He’s the one that needs help. And as for Isaac… Well, Isaac had it coming.” This was not her son, her son would not say that. Maybe he had been possessed or bewitched. That had to be it! But if she thought back on it, this had been building up for a long time. Though he would never go this far. 

“But it was not Stiles’ fault and Isaac is a lovely guy.” Scott shook his head, his verbal denial of what she’d said following soon after. “And what if Stiles had blamed you for what you are?”  
  
“ _I_ am not a monster, _I_ do not kill to survive.” Melissa did not know what to say to that, he was just so… _wrong_. It hurt to see her son like this, to hear the words pour from his mouth like they were meaningless; worthless. It was like an out of body experience, like she was floating, watching the scene unfold and had no real control over it.

“And what of Isaac, what if he had done what you did to him?”

“But he didn’t and if he had it would’ve been different.” He sounded so sure of himself, so righteous. As if he could do no evil.

“Scott,” she pleaded, desperate to get through to him but he stood up, voice bursting from him, harshly, as he told her to stop wasting her breath because he was in the right and knew what he was doing. 

The door banged shut on his way out, taking Melissa’s hope with him.


	7. Whatever It Takes.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lydia arrives with some news! :)

*********

“Stiles, why are you staring at me?” Stiles blinked, unaware of how much time had passed and confused by what Derek had said. Derek shifted, arching an eyebrow as he placed the book he had stolen from Stiles’ bookshelf, page down next to him. He pushed himself up when Stiles still hadn’t replied and asked, “Are you okay?”

In truth, Stiles didn’t know. He had been reading up on some vampire myths to distract himself from the thought of his father potentially dismembering his once best friend but then he had gotten a call from the man himself. Noah had told him what had happened with Melissa and then told him that he had to go to work. Stiles wasn’t sure what he was supposed to feel in a situation like this but he knew it wasn’t “okay”. So he nodded slowly and made to turn back to his research when he noticed that Derek’s eyebrow was still up.

He wanted an answer to his other question, too, Stiles knew that but he didn’t have one. It wasn’t like he could say “Oh, I was just thinking about what my dad said earlier and analyzing all of my actions before then and yours, too!” Because that could be like admitting he had feelings for Derek that he _didn’t_ have. He was just overthinking, that was all. But he couldn’t lie to himself that much; he knew that looking at Derek in the way he was wasn’t what you did when you had purely platonic feelings for someone. As he watched Derek, he noticed the little things like the way his lips tilted upward when something amused him in the book he was reading or the way his feet bounced slightly as if dancing to a beat no one could hear. He loved the way his beautiful mossy-tree eyes swept across the page – not too quickly, maybe he was a slow reader or maybe he just enjoyed taking his time. 

So maybe Stiles had a small crush on Derek but who wouldn’t? With the way Derek seemed so in tune with Stiles to the way he treated his Pack, the man was almost perfect. Of course, Stiles knew that Derek, like all people, was flawed. But most of that had to do with his past, therefore, wasn’t really his fault. Anyway, that wasn’t the point, the point was that any sane person who knew Derek as Stiles did would have feelings that were more than platonic. Or maybe they wouldn’t, maybe it _was_ just him. Maybe it wasn’t entirely normal to admire the way someone turned a page in a book so gracefully or the way their eyebrows creased in the middle. Okay, the crush may not be as small as he had thought.

“Sorry, I was just thinking,” he said when he realised that he couldn’t say any of this and had, in fact, begun to stare again. 

“What about?” He could lie, it wasn’t like Derek would know since he couldn’t hear a heart skip if it didn’t beat but he also didn’t really want to lie. He had already done too much of that. Had grown to hate it, it only seemed to cause trouble, but bending the truth and being vague wasn’t exactly lying.

“Nothing much,” he was about to go on when he heard a knock at the door. “What’s Lydia doing here?” He asked Derek after he recognised her scent. All he got was a shrug and then Derek went back to his book. Stiles rolled his eyes and headed downstairs. Trying to remember why he liked this guy before realising that that was probably a bad idea.

With a sigh, he ran a hand down his face and continued down the hall. Yanking the door open a little too aggressively, he said, "Lydia, hi." He got a quick greeting and a warm smile in return before Lydia was pushing past him and into his house. "After you." He chuckled despite himself.

"Sorry, I just have a few questions." She bounced on her heels, obviously excited; there was no need to try to read her scent but he did anyway. He regretted it when he realised her joy was tainted by worry and nerves. Before he could say anything, she started for the stairs leaving Stiles to trail after her.

**~~~~~**

Derek listened carefully as Stiles went downstairs and as soon as the boy was too distracted to listen, Derek let out a long breath. Having Stiles’ eyes focused so intently on him made him uneasy, stomach twisting. He’d let Stiles have a minute or two before he realised it wouldn’t stop without intervention so he had had to say _something._ He hadn’t expected Stiles to look so perplexed by whatever was going on inside his head; so anxious. Derek couldn’t help but wonder why – what was the younger male thinking about that had made him shift and pick at his desk chair’s armrest? What had made his lips turn down and his eyes wander before fixating back on Derek as if drawn by an invisible force?

Could it be that he was thinking about Derek? Even the idea of that made the werewolf snort with laughter – there was no way, Stiles saw him in no light other than one made for friends. He would have to get over it. 

That was so much easier said than done. Derek could already tell it would be near impossible to move on from Stiles **.** His brilliant smiles, especially the one he seemed to reserve for Derek’s eyes only (a rather new thing, but it was becoming difficult to ignore) being a large factor of this. And then there were his gorgeous, bright eyes, always so full of curiosity and snarky excitement, his hair – soft and dark – and too many other aspects, minute details, all too beautiful to describe with words.

But those were just his physical features… _shit._ He was completely stuck on a young man who could never want him back. Why would he? Derek was nothing in comparison to what Stiles could have; in comparison to what he deserved.

Lydia strode through the open door, interrupting Derek’s train of thought, Stiles stumbling after her, laughing. She grinned at him then looked over to Derek who now had his (Stiles’) book back in his hands, he wasn’t even sure he was on the right page but that didn’t seem to matter, he had no intention of actually reading anymore. 

“Hello, Derek.” He nodded in acknowledgement and got an eye roll in return.

Lydia sat down on Stiles’ desk chair, placing her bag on the desk and pulling it open. Stiles let out an enthusiastic “ _oo_ ” sound, “You find something?”

“Maybe, I don’t want to get your hopes up just yet but I think we – me and The Pack – have found something. The only bad thing is that it will take a lot of preparation.” Lydia joined Stiles on the floor and cracked the deteriorating book open. “As I said, I need to ask you some questions.” She quirked an all-too-perfect eyebrow at Stiles causing Derek’s mind to helpfully supply that Lydia would, in fact, be a good match for Stiles despite Stiles seeming to have gotten over his _thing_ for the girl a long time ago. This really wasn’t the time.

“Yeah, of course.” Stiles adjusted himself until he was lying down so he could see both the book and, if he looked slightly up, Derek. Derek smirked but other than that pretended not to have noticed. Flicking a page, he let himself get comfortable for a long night, mostly consisting of him acting like he wasn’t listening when in reality he would be hanging off every word.

“Do you, by any chance, know what type of vampire you are?” Derek frowned, he had known that vampires reacted to things differently but not that they were actually different types.

“No, I’ve been trying to work that out… hang on,” he stood up, glancing at Derek, their eyes connecting for a split second, or maybe it was just a split second too long. Derek wasn’t entirely sure, as when Stiles’ eyes met his own, it was like looking into pools of glee. The prospect of being human again, _normal_ again, it was exhilarating to him. It only took half a second to see that and to Derek, seeing that was a privilege.

Stiles grabbed a piece of paper, snapping that contact, and moved to lie next to Lydia again. “Here,” he unfolded it. “These, obviously, aren’t their real names but weedling out names of genuine vampire species is not easy.” He shrugged when Lydia laughed. “I crossed off that one,” he pointed to the top of the list, “because I don’t fucking sparkle.” Derek couldn’t help but chuckle, it earned him that smile. The small one that only he got, it was a quiet tug at Stiles’ lips, a fondness in his eyes, a slight dimple in his cheek. Derek bit back a groan, he felt like a teenager. “I’m definitely not that one unless I’ve missed the memo on how, exactly, I change into a bat.”

“It could just be you have to grow into it.” Lydia offered.

“Nah, I don’t think I would want to turn into a bat anyway.” He paused then said, “The rest of them are just the most plausible and backed-up myths of being a vampire. Does that book say anything else on types?” Derek had abandoned his pretence and was now lying at the end of the bed, arms folded beneath his chin as he read the book upside down.

“Not many, it mentions three in total and they’re just the types that this will work with.” Derek finished the page but it continued to the next so he looked up to see Stiles gnawing on his lower lip. Lydia flipped to the back, “These are the characteristics and how to spot the types. I think this was written before they discovered others. Unfortunately, most of them aren’t physical and there are different steps for each of the three types.”

Derek could only think of one real way to test to see what Stiles was and he didn’t like it, other than: “Before we do anything we should see if Deaton has a way--” he got cut off and in any other situation he would be annoyed but he was too busy worrying about what Stiles would have to go through just so he had a chance at normalcy.

“I already have.” With her lips downturned, brow furrowed, Derek could tell she didn’t like the idea any more than he did. And when he looked over at Stiles he was sat up, fingers knotted together. Before Derek could even think about it, he had slipped down next to the boy and wrapped his arms around him, pulling him into his lap. Lydia gave them their space and Derek was silently thankful.

“It’s going to be okay, you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. Okay?” Stiles shook his head then buried it in the crook of Derek’s neck. Derek wished he knew how to help, how to find out if this would work without having to run tests on Stiles. “We can find another way, there _has_ to be another way.”

“I’ve looked and looked. Like I mentioned, some of the others helped as well – it was actually Peter that found this – but there is nothing else. As soon as you told The Pack, Peter knew of a way to help but he also knew what it could entail so we scoured everything else and since I had already looked into most things…” 

Suddenly, Stiles pulled himself out of Derek’s lap and stood up. Eyes hard, lips pressed together, it was almost disconcerting to see Stiles so determined. Derek was used to Stiles being headstrong and used to Stiles’ overbearing stubbornness but this… this was something else entirely. Stiles wanted as normal a life as he could, he didn’t want to be a blood-sucker, didn’t want to have to deal with urges he couldn’t always control. He wanted to be able to live his life and not have to explain that he wasn’t a monster – wasn’t a killer. Stiles didn’t need to speak to communicate that to either of them. 

Both Derek and Lydia knew he hated that this had caused him to lose his best friend (for better or for worse). It made sense, Stiles had always liked the theory of mythical creatures but he very rarely wanted to be one. He already had to deal with a lot and the added stress of being afraid you’ll lose control of your own body, your own mind… And after the nogitsune as well. 

Everyone knew that that had left a deep scar, deeper than Stiles let on, Stiles didn’t want that to happen again – no one did. And Derek could tell, just from his eyes, that he would die if that meant stopping that from happening again. Derek would do the same.

“I’ll do whatever it takes.” He nodded as if to convince himself, “I don’t want this.” He gestured at himself, “I don’t want – no, I can’t stay nearly eighteen forever as you all grow old. So whatever it takes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, so sorry about the wait for this chapter. I hope you enjoyed and if you didn't then constructive criticism is always welcome. Leaving kudos and comments is, as always, appreciated. I hope you have a fantastic day, bye!


	8. Weakened Strengths.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mirrors, garlic and blood.

*********

After their conversation yesterday Lydia had gone home to do some extra research. She had suggested Stiles try to get a good night's sleep before today and, despite Stiles protests that vampire “don’t need to sleep that much,'' Derek had agreed. Derek had stayed over to make sure that Stiles did actually sleep. Although, Stiles was fairly sure that that was not the real reason. Not that he could think up any other, rational, reason.

After Lydia had arrived she had given them a quick rundown of what her plan for the day was and then had ushered them into the bathroom where they all now stood. 

Stiles stared at his own reflection, then let his eyes flick over to Derek’s who was smirking slightly, then Lydia’s who offered him a small smile before crossing off “can’t see reflection” on her list and looking up. 

“This one’s not very helpful.” When both Derek and Stiles gave her a raised eyebrow she elaborated, “They used to make mirrors with silver, a well-known weakness to most if not all supernatural creatures. That’s why vampires used to not be able to see themselves, with the exception of the strongest type of vampires.” She gestured to the book that lay open next to the sink, “They tend not to use silver any more.” Stiles nodded, interested to finally find some logic behind the legend.

“So, what was the point? Why don’t we find something that does have silver in it?” Stiles asks despite already knowing the answer. None of them wanted to run any of the other tests; they all knew that it would not be pleasant.

“Well, I do have something that might work but I didn’t bring it. Also, I was curious.” Lydia smirked and then leaned closer to the mirror to fix her eyebrow before turning back to Stiles and Derek to lead them back out and into Stiles’ room.

Stiles immediately moved to sit down on his bed. They had several different weaknesses that they would have to run through to not only figure out how to help Stiles but also to know what he should stay away from. Lydia had made it a point to note that this was something he should’ve already done. Stiles had told her that he had just planned on staying away from anything that could potentially hurt him, which was ridiculous as he could’ve accidentally stumbled upon something. Stiles knew that but he also knew that testing it out could hurt like hell. He didn’t want to go through that.

Not that that mattered though, as he was about to nonetheless. “Since we already know you can enter houses without permission, we can cross that off.” Stiles let his head drop into his hands, Lydia may be acting like she was calm and collected but Stiles knew otherwise. Even if he couldn’t smell her worry, which he could, he knew her too well for her facade of collected-calm to fool him, but she was trying, for him. It made his heart leap… well, it would have. 

Stiles felt the bed dip next to him, a hand placed carefully on his lower back and then Derek lowered his forehead to Stiles’ shoulder to rest it there. Stiles leaned into the touch and let out a small sigh, “What’s next?” he pressed out through his teeth – teeth that were beginning to feel too sharp. 

“Garlic.” Stiles’ head snapped up, his eyes landing on Lydia. Pressing his lips together, he reminded himself that she was helping him. Then he noticed the slight sting in his lip, his teeth were definitely too sharp, he winced.

“Stiles, you don’t have to do this, we can keep looking. Maybe find something that just helps you age?” Derek breathed, almost as if afraid Stiles would break, but as much as Stiles didn’t want to test all the theories on Lydia’s list, he didn’t want to be a vampire more. He may have come to terms with it, made peace with what he was but that didn’t stop him from not wanting this. And the cool press of now needle-like teeth against his lip was just a reminder of that. As was the tugging in his chest and the loud pounding of blood that had begun to thrum in his sensitive ears.

All of his instincts were, once again, telling him he needed to feed and that he had two perfect food sources in his room. Although one was leaving to go and get garlic from the kitchen without noticing his predicament, luckily. Yet that just seemed to make it worse. A small voice at the back of his head told him to follow her, his prey was escaping and he _needed_ to catch up _now!_ And if he didn’t he would feed on Derek, and, the voice went on to tell him, he could not do that. He was not allowed to but if Derek was the only source of blood then it was better than the shit he kept under his bed.

_No,_ this was why he had to do this, this was why he could not stay a vampire. He didn’t stop to think about why his instincts told him Lydia, escaping food, would be better than the werewolf that had his neck exposed to him. Instead, he gently pushed Derek off him and when Derek looked up, he pulled back. The movement was so quick that it sent a pulse of _he’s going to run, catch him_ through his hunger-fueled thoughts. He swore he used to be better at keeping track of when he was going to be hungry before Derek found out.

Then he realised that Derek was watching him with careful eyes, trying not to let his shock show through his mask, “Stiles?” In answer Stiles sunk his teeth into his bottom lip, getting no satisfaction from the feeling. _Good,_ he reached under his bed and pulled out the cooler to allow himself to feed. To his surprise and trepidation, Derek moved closer again and helped him when his fingers fumbled the latch that kept the box closed. “It’s alright, Stiles.” The quiet voice was back though, this time it was not to avoid breaking him but to help hold him together. So Stiles pulled away and let Derek help. 

Derek picked out a bag of deer and reached up to pull Stiles’ lip free of his teeth. Stiles took in a sharp breath – an odd feeling when you don’t really need to breathe – and shut his eyes so as not to focus on how close Derek’s pulsing wrist was to his face. Then a cool bag was pressed to his lips, forcing his eyes open. He sank his teeth into the bag, cringing at the plastic but moaning at the taste of blood. That was another thing he hated: he loved blood. He loved the taste and the feel of it sliding down his throat and the small drops that collected at the corners of his mouth. He hated that he loved it, despised the fact, even.

He wrapped his fingers around Derek’s wrist, keeping him in place, though Derek didn’t try to pull away. When Stiles’ eyes met Derek’s there was no fear, no hate, no confusion just a pure sweet understanding, fascination and something else that Stiles knew wasn’t negative but didn’t know exactly how to describe. They didn’t break eye contact until Stiles senses kicked back into gear and he noticed Lydia standing in the doorway with a smirk.

He blinked and pulled Derek’s hands away, pressing his thumb over the holes and coughing slightly. “Don’t let me interrupt.” Stiles gave her a weak smile, “I’ll be back in a few.” She disappeared around the corner and Stiles turned back to a slightly red Derek. Stiles ran the thumb of his free hand over the slowly disappearing heat before he knew what he was doing, it made Derek blink and shake his head.

“Sorry,” he pulled his hand back, out from Stiles’ grip and tore his gaze away. 

Stiles frowned, “Dude, calm down, you have nothing to be sorry for.” Apart from making Stiles even more sure about his feelings for Derek. 

He went back to the blood as much out of need for sustenance as out of need of a distraction. Despite Derek’s now apparent awkwardness, he kept his eyes trained on Stiles, watching his every move up until he pulled out a second bag and drained half of it before taping it up and putting it, and the cooler, away.

Before the tension between the two could grow any further Lydia reappeared, a knowing smile tugging at her lips as her eyes flew between them. Then, she shook her head and held up an old, half-used bulb of garlic. “I found this in your fridge, you should clean it out more often.” She tutted but her features showed no judgement, she knew that Stiles had more important things to think about than fridge cleanliness. “So, you ready?” 

“As ready as I’ll ever be.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that I don't really have an upload schedule, I would like to be able to upload chapters on a more regular basis but unfortunately I can't at the moment. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the chapter and, as always, feel free to comment, and leave kudos. Also, constructive criticism is welcome. Have a fabulous day/night. Bye!


	9. Wait...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Garlic and sunlight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Panic attack and mentions of beatings

“Are you sure?” Derek asked, searching Stiles’ eyes for any sign that he was lying. Stiles nodded; he was very sure. He wanted to get this over and done with as soon as possible and said as much.

“Alright, let’s start with you just holding it.” Lydia removed a clove of garlic and passed it over to Stiles. His reached slowly for the piece, with shaking hands, seeming almost like a movie where someone is hitting pause every other second. There was a collective intake of breath as he wrapped his fingers around it and pulled back. Then… nothing. No pain, no stinging, just the feel of garlic pressed dormant between his fingers. He briefly wondered if it was the necklace protecting him before he remembered what Deaton had told him about it: It only protected him from sunlight and prevented people who have superior senses from using them on him; it had limited power.

Hesitantly, he began picking at the skin of the clove. It took a moment as he could not cut the ends off but finally, he managed to remove just enough for him to be able to rub his finger over the flesh and yet still nothing. He looked up and shook his head so Lydia told him to taste it. He did, running his tongue over the exposed garlic only to be surprised.

He pulled back quickly and interrupted the concerned questions with, “No, I’m fine. It’s just… it tastes better than I remember.” Suddenly, Lydia laughed half out of relief, “What?” 

“Nothing, it’s just funny that you avoided garlic for months only to find out that you actually love it.” Stiles chuckled too, glancing over to Derek just in time to see him roll his eyes and shake his head. “Also, the fact that you enjoy it rules out the first kind of vampire which also means we don’t have to test the crucifix, a wolf’s bite,” her eyes flicked over to Derek who shifted slightly. “Or holy water. Which is good because we don’t have that.” Lydia crossed them off the list as she spoke. 

“Well, that’s good news.” Stiles beamed but it dropped almost as soon as he remembered all the other things they would have to test. And for all they knew he could be an unlisted type which brought a new question to mind, “Wait, why don’t we have to test them, what if I’m not any of the three types?” Lydia thought for a brief moment before replying.

“Because these,” she tapped her list, “are not likely to come up in another breed. They’re like… the original vampire’s weaknesses.” There was a long pause in which Stiles prepared himself for the next step.

He knew at least one of these was going to hurt like hell, he had to remind himself constantly of why he was doing this. Every time he reminded himself he would feel just slightly more confident, or at least that’s what he liked to think. He hated this, hated that there wasn’t a more simple way to work out what he was. Surely he could just pick one thing from each category and work it out that way.

Then he remembered that Lydia had already told him the answer to this, conveniently not all of the items on the list would necessarily still be accurate. He supposed the first breed didn’t have the same problem because it was an original breed as Lydia had said. It had probably dated back thousands of years before the book was created. He couldn’t help but wish that someone would hurry up and work out how to deal with the newer breeds of vampire.

“What’s next?” It wasn’t Stiles that asked but Derek. His voice thick and when Stiles looked over at him he met beautifully large eyes.

“We need to see how the sun affects you.” When Stiles was turned it had been night and since then he had had the necklace (thanks to Deaton) so he had not needed – or wanted – to find out what happened when he was hit by the suns rays. 

“Fuck, this is gonna hurt like hell.” Stiles threw his head back before getting to his feet. “Are we going outside or just going to pull the curtains?”

They decided that pulling the curtains back would be the smarter idea in case they needed to get Stiles away from the sun quickly. Stiles stood in front of his open window, fingers curling and relaxing around the chain of his necklace. He was so ready before, with the garlic but he supposed that had something to do with the fact that it was only a small section of his body. But now? Now it would hurt all of his exposed skin – logically he could just stick one hand in front of the window but Lydia told him that this way is more efficient and that they would get a more accurate reading. Which sucked.

“Do you want me to?” Derek’s voice, slightly rougher than usual, pressed into his ears as hands that matched his voice well moved to rest on Stiles’ shoulders, brushing Stiles’ too-white knuckles. He nodded. Maybe having the decision of when it would happen taken out of his control would do him some good. 

He heard Derek fumble with the clasp, felt his breathing pick up against his neck when he had finally gotten it undone and then he moved away. His hand trailed over Stiles’ neck as he did so.

Nothing, again. And then there was the beautifully warm feel of the sun on his skin, just slightly too hot, slightly too much. He turned to tell Lydia and Derek this but before he could he heard Lydia gasp loudly. That was when he felt it, the tingling he had felt before was no longer there, replaced by something indescribable. Something that… that...

Stiles fell.

**^^^^^**

Jackson stared at McCall as he told him all about how Stiles was a vampire – a “blood-sucking monster” – and how he had ruined his relationship with Isaac, killed an innocent and pushed Scott out of The Pack. How Kira was the only one on his side. Scott’s heartbeat had not skipped or faltered so either he was telling the truth or what he believed was true. The only problem… no, one of several problems was that as much as Jackson didn’t really get along with Stiles and as much as he had hated him in the past, there was no denying that the guy, despite lacking some morals, was an okay person. Meaning Jackson found it difficult to believe that Stiles would purposefully hurt someone, let alone kill them. 

But then there was the fact that he had thought Scott incapable of being bad or doing anything even remotely wrong and, to Jackson at least, lying about your best friend was _wrong._ Not even Jackson would lie this much about someone he claimed to care about. He just wished he hadn’t skipped going to that meeting.

So he did the only thing he could think of and said, “Well, good for Stilinski, finally growing a backbone.” And then when Scott had gaped and questioned him, he had told him that he didn’t have time for this right now, shoved Scott out of his house and went straight to Ethan. 

He told Ethan everything Scott had told him and everything he thought about it and Ethan had told him to slow down. “We’ll work this out, have you spoken to Stiles?”

“No.”

“Alright, we should start there.” Jackson could practically feel the eye roll behind the words but Ethan kept quiet, didn’t mock him for being concerned about someone he claimed not to care about. That was one of the many reasons he loved Ethan.

*********

It felt like thousands of tiny knives were hitting his skin, a scream barely withheld as he pulled his flannel shirt over his head. He couldn’t make out the words he heard but it didn’t matter; the searing pain brought memories he thought he had buried deep enough to never see again right to the front of his mind. 

_He couldn’t breathe, fists and teeth and glinting eyes. He smirked and spat blood in one of their faces, mumbled something snarky and hate-filled. It was not a good idea, he knew it but he could not find it anywhere within himself to give a damn – he was hurting enough to just not care._

This had been a bad idea. He was okay – finally okay! – with talking about what had happened that night and they had ruined it. He didn’t blame Lydia, nor did he blame Derek, but he was hurting as he had done that night. 

_A fist, the one belonging to the vampire he had insulted, made its way into his face. Blood. It was his own. Again and again. Every time his head hit the tree behind him. Every time he realised just slightly more that he would not come out of this alive. Every time he flung a new insult._

The curtains were shut now but the pain lingered on. Fingers were wrapped around his forearms, holding them to his chest, a voice in his ear whispering calmingly, desperately. He couldn’t see who it was – eyes too filled with his past – but he knew it was Derek. Could tell by the press of his flat chest against Stiles’ back and his slightly too-rough fingers.

_Then the man that stood before Stiles smirked but not at him, at a woman. She was such a contrast to the dark man in front of him. Pale as snow, cropped blonde hair, and large blue eyes; two perfect opposites. Stiles would have admired it if he were in any other situation._

Derek’s whispers grew more frantic. Stiles could not find his voice, his hearing, his sight outside of this darkness.

_“_ _Evalyn.” The man drawled in a thick British accent._

_“Marco.” The woman, Evalyn, nodded back, her voice was more memorable. Mainly due to her next words: “Stiles Stilinski,” she drew out each ‘s’ in an almost ear-piercing way. “The boy who cried wolf. The boy who favours_ monsters _over his own kind. The lost boy.” She hissed, serpent's fangs dropping in a perfect show of control, blue eyes flashing like diamonds. Too beautiful to be full of evil. Yet there she stood, tall and every inch as sharp as her teeth._

Stiles was not breathing, he did not need to and, right now, he did not want to. It was almost like he had unlocked a part of his memories he shouldn’t have been able to get to. He managed to croak out a small “don’t” as if trying to warn the others. He had to stay in his mind, had to see what had happened after the drop of her fangs. He had no real idea, other than the beatings, of what had happened after that. But now… now it was all there. Right there. At the tips of his fingers, he just had to...

His fangs pressed into his lip and he sank back.

_Fingers wrapped around his neck, slow and measured. Her eyes calculating as she applied pressure, right up until he could no longer breathe. Black spots coated his vision and then she pulled back – a snake playing with its food. He breathed in deeply, gulping and sucking at the air with desperate need. “What to do, what to do.” Stiles already knew what and so did she but she was enjoying this too much. And it showed._

“Stiles, please.” Derek’s voice broke through but Stiles pulled back again muttering as he did so.

“Don’t, don’t, don’t,” Derek didn’t _get_ it. He was so close. It was like they had taken these memories, he was not supposed to see this. It did not matter. The pain – burning, blistering, agonising pain – had reminded him. Jolted him.

_She would not punch or kick, Stiles knew, but she was not above biting as it seemed. He felt the draw of his blood through his bound wrist, heard the quiet swallowing sounds ring in his ears after the symphony of_ loud. _She praised his taste, sending a sharp shiver down his spine. And then Marco stood forward, ripped her offered wrist open and guided it up, up, up…_

Lips pulled away from his. His lungs filled and deflated in a way that was pointless but had managed to pull him out of his thoughts. Derek had kissed him. He had kissed Stiles just as Stiles was about to find out what had happened that night. Yes, he knew he had been beaten, knew about Evalyn and Marco, knew that he had died to only pain. But it was like Evalyn had just disappeared between her fangs dropping and Stiles being beaten. Stiles should have put it together. Of course!

He needed to see more though, he had to be sure. But he couldn’t, not now. No amount of biting his own lip would make him fall back now. “No. No, no, no.” He stood up, pushing Derek away in the process and began to pace.

“Stiles?” Lydia asked quietly.

“I guess he didn’t like the kiss.” It was a new voice and it had Stiles whipping around to see who it was. Jackson. Behind him stood Ethan, both had an eyebrow raised.

“No, it’s not that.” Then it hit him, almost powerful enough to distract him from Evalyn, Derek Hale had _kissed_ him.

“I’m so sorry, Stiles. Lydia said…” Derek looked pained so Stiles stopped him before he could go on.

“Really, Derek, it’s fine. Well, it’s not, I was hoping our first kiss would not be while I was in the middle of an epiphany slash panic attack. But that’s not important, nor is whatever you came here for.” He waved at Jackson who frowned but said nothing, not that he got the chance, “I remembered something. Well, someone.” He didn’t want to recount what had happened but if it could help in the slightest then maybe it would be worth it. 

So he did, he told them everything he had remembered leaving out most of what was said. And when he was done, before anything else was said, Jackson spoke up saying, “So, it’s true, you are a vampire.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, hope you enjoyed this chapter. Have a great day, bye!


	10. One Day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: implied/referenced aphobia

**~~~~~**

Derek watched silently as Stiles explained everything to Jackson and Ethan. In reality, he wanted to push everyone out the door to talk to Stiles privately; the words “our first kiss” ringing in his ears like the echo of a train in a tunnel. Stiles had hoped for a better first kiss, did that mean he wanted to kiss him or was it just something he had said to set Derek’s mind at ease? If it was the latter, it had failed rather miserably. 

This should not have been the main thing on Derek’s mind right now, he knew that. They had more pressing matters to attend to and judging by the look on Lydia’s face, she had some rather important discoveries to share. But Stiles was still busy explaining everything to Jackson and Ethan and clearing up some lies spread by Scott, as it seemed. Which successfully dragged Derek back to the present. He pulled himself together, with the resolve of talking to Stiles later, and put his attention on the trio. 

“So, he told you that I was a murderous, lying, couple ruining monster?”

“Well, pretty much, yes.” Jackson, for once, avoided joking or sassing. In fact, he looked genuinely pissed off at Scott.

“What a conniving bastard!” Stiles started pacing the length of his room, “I can’t believe him, why would he try to turn you against me? Of course, he would.” Stiles hit himself in the forehead with his palm. “Why would he not, is the real question. He’s… God, I hate him!” Derek could see Stiles swaying as he paced, see his eyes glisten and hear his voice catch. He knew if he didn’t do anything soon Stiles wouldn’t stop talking and overexert himself – he was already exhausted.

So he stood up and when Stiles span around to continue his pacing, he walked straight into Derek’s chest. Although Jackson snickered (quickly silenced by Ethan stamping on his foot), Stiles didn’t seem perturbed, just let Derek hold him, relaxed into his arms. It didn’t stop his rambling but it did convince the other two males to leave, finally.

Derek tightened his grip on Stiles and glanced over at Lydia who seemed lost in her own thoughts. “Can it wait?” he mouthed after getting her attention. She nodded, stood up and followed after Jackson, quietly. She seemed as though she had some research to do anyway. 

Derek lifted a still mumbling Stiles up and placed him in bed. “It’s going to be okay.” He said but regretted it as soon as it left his mouth.

“No, no it’s not. He was my brother _,_ Derek, My goddamned _brother!_ And now he’s trying to turn Pack against me? We were supposed to be in this together, that’s what brother’s _do_ , they stick together, through thick and thin.” He shook his head, “Maybe I knew this would happen all along, maybe that’s why it took me so long to tell him.” 

They’d had a conversation like this before, but then Stiles had been adamant that he didn’t hate Scott, and maybe he still didn’t, not really. “Is it selfish that I wish I hadn’t, is it? Because if I hadn’t said anything then Isaac would still be in a relationship with him and not crying at Danny’s. But that would be a good thing.” Derek stopped him there.

“No, it would not be a good thing, Stiles. You got him out of a bad relationship, you should be glad.”

“But I’m not!” Stiles made to stand but Derek pulled him tighter against his chest, shushing him quietly. “How can I be after I’ve turned him against me?” Stiles’ voice caught painfully in his throat again. He didn’t fight against Derek’s hold, even as he ranted on about everything. Derek did listen, he listened to every word and countered what he could when Stiles stopped to let out quiet sobs. But then Stiles said, “And I don’t know what to do now that you’ve kissed me. I know it was a spur of the moment thing and all but it just sucks that it had to happen then, and with everyone watching. And you probably regret it and…” Derek wondered if Stiles even realised what he was saying at this point but only briefly as then Stiles went on with, “I’m sorry, you’re probably disgusted.” And Derek nearly yelled, “fuck that!” before reigning himself in and trying to get Stiles’ attention.

When Stiles continued to blindly blabber on about the kiss, Derek didn’t even think.

“Shit,” Stiles breathed as Derek pulled away again. Then he made a confused noise at the back of his throat and gaped at Derek as if he had two heads.

“If you had let me speak I would’ve told you that I don’t regret it. I do regret the circumstances and that you were in a position where you couldn’t have stopped me if you wanted to but not that it happened.” He really did hate that Stiles hadn’t been able to push him away, but they’d tried everything else and Lydia said that it had worked once before. Of course, this had been her plan. Lydia always had a plan.

“So… What does this mean?”

“Whatever you want.” Derek knew Stiles was old enough to make his own decisions and smart enough to know that if he turned Derek down, Derek wouldn’t force the issue. He couldn’t. He refused to become anything like Kate, who had, in a way, seduced him and he couldn’t do anything like that to Stiles. Derek was so much older, in his opinion, so it was up to Stiles and Stiles alone to make this decision. And as long as Stiles didn’t push too far or ask for too much, Derek would be happy with whatever he said next. Probably.

**^^^^^**

Jackson was struggling to control himself. Ethan was pressed tightly against his shoulder in an attempt to ground him. It was helping, and really Jackson knew he had no right to be this upset at Scott as he, himself, had hurt Stiles many times before. But this was different. Scott was Stiles’ best friend and he had lied to not only Stiles and his own boyfriend (Isaac) but also Jackson. He’d tried to use his already tender, strained relationship against him so that he would hurt Stiles. So, Jackson was mad on Stiles’ behalf.

And now… now Scott was stood in front of Jackson, outside Jackson’s house, with a blinding grin on his face. “Hi.”

“Go away, Scott.” It was Ethan’s voice that hit the air but Jackson’s growl wasn’t far behind.

“Why?” Scott asked, eyes large in that infuriatingly innocent way.

“We talked to Stiles, Lydia. Derek was there too. We’re both on their side.” Jackson said.

“But… I was telling you the truth.” He had been, Ethan may be better at telling the truths from the lies but Jackson wasn’t an idiot: he knew Scott had been being honest with him, but so had Stiles and Lydia.

“Oh, wow.” He felt sorry for Scott. “You really do see it that way, don’t you? You really don’t see anything wrong with what you did.” 

“Stiles ruined everything, not me!” God, he was blinded by his own righteousness. “If it had been my fault, if I had done something wrong, then I would’ve lost my true alpha spark. That’s what Deaton said before.” He flashed his eyes: red but nowhere near as bright as they had once been. He really didn’t know, he was so stuck in his own head that he genuinely believed that everything he did was okay.

“Scott, let me spell this out for you: you lied and cheated on your boyfriend, despite the fact that he already has trust issues, you called your best friend a monster, a murderer, you tried to convince Liam to do the same by asking him to join you. Scott, you are an _idiot_.” Jackson took a step forward, he could feel the cold press of his claws against his palm and knew that if Scott didn’t leave soon he would do something he probably wouldn’t regret.

Scott didn’t leave, in fact, he stepped closer and tried to defend himself again. Lame, pathetic, unreasonable excuses about how Isaac couldn’t give Scott what Scott “needed”. Although Jackson knew, for a fact, that Scott and Isaac had discussed how Isaac wasn’t interested in sex before they got together and it hadn’t bothered Scott in the slightest. And how Isaac wasn’t “enough”. It made Jackson feel sick.

Then he tried to turn it on Jackson, reminding him of everything he had done to Stiles. Jackson snapped. Before he knew what he was doing, he lashed out, claws tearing through soft flesh that would heal all too quickly. Scott yelped, jumping back and raising a hand to his mutilated face. “What the hell?” He screamed.

“Leave, now!” Scott ran with only a glance over his shoulder spared.

*********

Whatever he wanted… god, he was too tired to be making this decision but he had to at some point. So, what did Stiles want with Derek? He knew he wanted to kiss him, help him become completely happy again, talk to him, spend time with him. But date? It seemed like such a strong word, he’d never dated someone, not really. Though he really liked Derek, was now the right time? It seemed too fast and too much, and what if he couldn’t be what Derek wanted him to be? What if he was never human again and he got attached and then had to watch Derek grow old and die? What if…

“Stiles?” Derek touched Stiles’ face lightly, “Talk to me.”

“I can’t be what you need.”

“You already are more than I could ever hope for.” Stiles blinked at that. Then voiced his worry on ageing only for Derek to say, “It’ll be okay, we’ll find a way to make you as human as we can.” It wasn’t much but hearing the words out loud helped.

Stiles mind raced for things he could say, things that would help him out of answering the unasked question: what did the kiss mean to you? He wanted it to mean so much, and it _did,_ it probably meant too much And he had a crush on Derek, for fuck’s sake! So, why couldn’t he find the words: “Will you be mine?”. Every time he tried to say them, they slipped away. He would look for them, chase after them but they stayed just out of reach.

He wasn’t ready for this. Not yet.

“I, Derek I’m so sorry, I just can’t right now.” Derek’s face fell, but he nodded.

“It’s alright, I understand.”

“No, you don’t, let me--”

“Don’t, Stiles, I get it.” Derek was trying to smile, trying to hide his disappointment. “I just wasn’t expecting a flat out no.”

“I said ‘right now’, Derek. That’s not a ‘no’.” Derek tried to say something but Stiles talked over him, “Derek, I like you, like, really _like_ like you. But I’m not ready for the sort of relationship I want with you. That’s not your fault and I’m sorry, I really am. I don’t want this to scare you away, though. Please, I don’t want this to get in between us. I really am sorry.” Derek stopped him from going on, as they both knew he would.

“Okay, I’ll wait for you.”

“I can’t ask you to do that.”  
  
“You didn’t,” Stiles smirked and Derek chuckled. The tension broke.

“One day.”

Derek nodded. “One day.”


	11. True Alpha.

**~~~~~**

It was early in the afternoon the next day when Lydia came back. “How are the two of you?” She asked with a knowing smile. 

“We’re both good,” Stiles answered, Lydia almost pouted. She glanced at Derek, a question in her eyes. Derek gave her a small shake of his head. He knew she was rooting for them (she wasn’t trying to be subtle) so was he, if he was being truthful. And he was; he’d given up lying to himself the moment Stiles had told him… the moment he burst into Stiles’ room unannounced and found out that Stiles was a vampire.

“What have you found, Lydia?” Derek asked – he knew she must’ve figured something out. The look on her face spoke volumes. So did her slight bouncing.

“Remember that I said most of the characteristics mentioned in the book aren’t physical?” Both Stiles and Derek nodded so Lydia continued, “Well, a few of the things Stiles mentioned about… what was her name?”

“Evalyn.” Stiles spat, stepping closer to Derek who instinctively wrapped an arm around him. Feeling the incessant need to protect and hide Stiles from the vile creature that had hurt him so, _so_ much.

Lydia rose an eyebrow but went on nonetheless, “Evalyn. Yes. A few things you mentioned about her: the extremely pale skin, her serpent-like attributes, and intense beauty – they all seem to point to one vampire type.” She shifted.

“And that is?” Derek asked, nervous about Lydia’s behaviour. She studied them both for a moment; analysing and curious. It made Derek even more uncomfortable, and if Stiles stiffening was anything to go by, Stiles was edging that way too.

“Ophidian. Its root word ‘Ophidia’ is Latin but it most likely originated in Ancient Greece from the word ‘óphis’ meaning ‘snake’.” She was stalling, Derek could tell. They didn’t need to know this, but what was so bad that it got Lydia, of all people, to try to postpone telling them – blunt as she was. Stiles moved from foot to foot, hands dancing with each other. He gestured for her to go on. “You probably haven’t shown all the physical traits yet because you haven’t been a vampire for long enough.”

“Lydia, what’s the catch?” Stiles interrupted.

Lydia’s face softened, “I read over the way to change an Ophidian back to human and it involves getting the blood from the one who turned you.” Derek’s stomach fell. 

The Pack hadn’t managed to kill many of the vampires. They had repeatedly succeeded in slipping through their fingers and running to safety. Which meant that Evalyn was still out there, wandering around killing and potentially turning others, with her coven. Derek had considered going after them but they had fled in the night and could have been anywhere by the time Derek was informed of their departure. He might have been able to capture their scent but it appeared as though they had split up and, since they had no longer really been a threat to his Pack, it didn’t seem worth the chase.

Now, though, he regretted it. Maybe if he had caught her and her coven, she would’ve told them about Stiles and they would’ve saved Stiles a lot of internal turmoil – everyone knew he had been through a lot as it were. But Derek hadn’t. And it was too late now.

How were they supposed to find her?

Lydia looked conflicted. There was something else that she wasn’t telling them and Stiles seemed to notice too, as he said, “Lydia, what is it? We really need the whole picture here otherwise we can’t fix me.” Derek growled low in his throat and tightened his grip; Stiles was not broken, just in the wrong form. There was nothing _to_ fix they just had to return him to his human self, “Alright, _change me back_ , then.”

“You need a bite… from a true alpha.”

The silence in the room seemed to be mocking them. They stood, letting the words sink in, but it was like they refused to. Sitting on Derek’s skin, singing with laughter. This could not be right. After Scott’s betrayal and the tests and Stiles’ panic attack and _everything:_ this had to be some sort of mistake. Stiles didn’t deserve this. Not _this._ He’d been through so much – _too_ much. 

Yes, Scott hated Stiles being a vampire but they knew that, in his eyes, there was no saving Stiles now. He had fucked everything up so he was no longer worth the effort. It appeared Scott’s _“everyone can be saved”_ attitude did not apply to Stiles. Maybe it never had.

Getting Scott to help was less likely than finding and taking Evalyn and her blood. They all knew that to be true, no one had to say it but Stiles did nonetheless. When Lydia just nodded, Stiles pulled away from Derek to sit down on his bed. “Why couldn’t it have been something – _anything –_ else? Like, it literally would be easier to get a frog to bite me!” Stiles laughed though it sounded more like a choked sob.

“We’ll figure something out Stiles,” Lydia said, stepping forward. Stiles let his head rest against her stomach as she ran her fingers through his hair soothingly.

“It’s not like we can just find another true alpha meandering through the forest.”

“I know, Sti. I’ll talk to Scott, see if we can work something out, and if not then I have some of The Pack already looking for other solutions. Your dad and Parish are keeping an eye out for any activity that may mean an alpha is nearby; I know true alphas only come once every one hundred years but it’s worth a look. And if none of that works out, Derek will have to bite you and we’ll have to hope for the best.” It wasn’t the best plan but, at the moment, it was the only one they had.

“Alright, but how are we going to find Evalyn?” Derek asked, ignoring the fact that Lydia nominated him to _bite_ Stiles. The idea scared him: what if it turned Stiles into a werewolf, or it killed him, or… no, he’d think about that _if_ the time came. And only then. Hopefully.

“We’ll need to talk to Deaton about that, I think. I’ve looked into it but can’t find any good location spells that we’ll be able to do, and as it was months ago the wolves won’t be able to scent-track her.” Stiles nodded and stood up. Lydia stepped back, and Derek let out a breath he wasn’t aware he had been holding.

*********

They arrived at Deaton’s soon after, the vet was out back organising shelves. He didn’t turn around when he asked: “What can I do for you?” Stiles shivered slightly. Though he and Deaton may get along better now than they used to, the guy still gave Stiles the creeps. Yes, he had helped – and still did help – Stiles a lot over the past few months but the guy was odd. And slightly too cryptic.

“Deaton.” Finally, he faced them.

“Ah, Stiles, do you need more blood?” 

“No, actually, we need your help.” Deaton’s eyebrow rose. “We need to track down the vampire that turned me.” He hated saying _her_ name – refused to if he could help it; the words _“lost boy”_ rang in his head every time he did. The words shouldn’t mean as much as they did, except maybe they were true; maybe he was lost. A vampire hanging around a bunch of wolves? It was unheard of. But even before that, when he was human, he was so fragile _,_ so very _breakable_. 

He could play tough and pretend to be one of them but he never truly _fit._ Even now, as a supernatural, he didn’t fit. But it had given him a new appreciation for being human – it was true he’d never wanted to _be_ a werewolf but that didn’t mean he never envied their power. This, though, had shown him he wasn’t missing out on much and for that he was glad. 

Maybe he would miss the strength and the healing but being human had its perks, too. Like being in control. He didn’t feel lost in his own body as a human either.

Still, the words hurt; feeling like an unfair brand that he only contributed to every time he said that name. It was a too-thick feeling that – now that he remembered everything – could suffocate him one day... if he let it. _Never let it._

“We found a way to turn him back.” Lydia clarified after Deaton had said nothing for a prolonged stretch of time.

They had talked about it so many times that it seemed unreal – maybe it was if Scott decided not to help. Talking about something and actually _doing_ something about it are two completely different things. So those words said so damn confidently made it all seem palpable. Finally in reach.

Stiles leaned closer to Derek and the arm he got around his waist in response made him wonder if Derek liked vampire Stiles more than he liked human Stiles. Vampire Stiles could keep up, Vampire Stiles would become even more beautiful as he aged, Vampire Stiles was the one Derek had kissed. He didn’t want to think about that right now. He wished it was that easy.

“That’s good, I believe I have a way to find her if that is what you want.” Stiles thought that was an odd way to put it and said as much, “I merely mean: are you sure that you are prepared for this?”

Derek spoke up, “Lydia will need to talk to Scott…” he trailed off, eyebrows raised at Lydia as if to ask, “What else is there?”

“We also need a few ingredients.” Lydia handed a list to Deaton.

“Lavender, calendula, sage and… hemlock?” Lydia nodded.

“You didn’t say anything about poison,” Derek said, voice betraying him slightly. Stiles had to agree; he had never signed up for poison. Then again, he hadn’t signed up for any of this.

“It’s all mixed with her blood before he consumes it,” Lydia informed them as if that fixed everything. It seemed to for Deaton though, as he nodded and started sorting through to see what he did and didn’t have.

“Can someone please explain how that excuses the fact that I will be eating _poison._ Because last I checked that was highly dangerous, and though it might have no effect on me now, as a vampire, won’t it harm me when – if – this works? You know because I will be _human_.” Stiles would have paced but that would mean leaving Derek’s side and, right now, he couldn’t find the willpower to do that. So he opted for tapping his fingers against his upper arms, counting – a force of habit.

“No, the vampire’s blood will prevent that.” Stiles, now curious, had to ask how. Deaton took a moment before answering, “the same factor that changes and keeps humans as vampires will stop the hemlock from harming you in any negative way.” 

Deaton went on to explain that, in theory, the combination of ingredients added to the blood used at just the right time will cause the vampire “factor” to break down, eventually, disappearing altogether. That right time being on a new moon – when the moon would be at its weakest and, therefore, wouldn’t be able to aid the vampire (a creature of the night) in any way. But it had to be done at night otherwise the vampire would burn because it couldn’t be wearing any other magic. Lydia said that it would interrupt the spell and could injure Stiles’ chances of being human ever again. Just the idea of that had Stiles’ stomach churning.

Deaton set down three of the four ingredients. The hemlock wasn’t there but that was probably for the very reason they were discussing.

“In theory?” Derek growled after they finished their lengthy explanation. Though Stiles found it interesting to know what was going to happen to him and why, that part had made him uneasy. Stiles pressed into Derek’s side.

Lydia answered him, “Yeah, it has only been done a few times before and that was a long time ago. Stiles, the ophidian are a stereotypically anti-social breed. They tend to keep to themselves and with their mate, even when they’re in covens.” She gave them both a significant look, Stiles opted to ignore its meaning. “Which also means people don’t see the need to turn them back.” She went on to explain that the person who figured out the way to convert them to human had known the vampire before their forced turn and had wished to help. It was an eerily similar situation to Stiles’ own.

Deaton placed a book on the table and opened it, flicking until he found the correct page. Stiles pulled away from Derek, feeling a cold tickle briefly replace him, and leaned over to see what it was. 

The title read _“Tracking”_ and underneath: _“Vampire Fledgelings”._ And under that, it explained how to track out of control newborns. Deaton said it should work much the same since Stiles was still technically a young vampire, therefore, would still have a blood link with Evalyn.

Stiles hoped he was right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed this chapter. Feel free to leave a comment, kudos or recommendation (constructive criticism) on how I can improve! Have a great day, bye!


	12. Where Do You Stand?

*********

Stiles didn’t know what he was supposed to do. He was sitting in front of the woman who had been a mother to him for so long; held him while he cried, cooked for him, let him come round whenever he wanted and took care of him when his own _father_ couldn’t. And he didn’t know what to do to help her.

Tears streamed down her face despite her best efforts to compose herself. Stiles suddenly regretted saying that he wanted to do this alone. The plan had been that Stiles would go to the McCall house looking for Scott, if he wasn’t there, then they would find him but if he was then Stiles would try to talk to him. If Scott refused to even hear Stiles out, then he would get Lydia to talk to him. She was good at persuading people. But when Stiles had knocked on the door, he had been greeted by Melissa. She was fine up until the point where Stiles had mentioned Scott’s name. 

After a little prompting, she had explained that Scott had been leaving just as she arrived home yesterday. He had planned on leaving before she even got there but it had taken longer to load all of his things into Kira’s car than either of them had anticipated. He hadn’t even planned on leaving a note. But when Melissa had stopped him and asked what he was doing he had told her that he couldn’t stay in a town where people would protect a murderer. She struggled to tell Stiles that Scott had referred to him as a “monster, vampire or otherwise.” 

Scott had asked her, “How can you stand up for him over me?” after she had said that Stiles was not _that_. Stiles had offered to get her a glass of water after that. He took his time.

Once he had sat back down, she went on to say that she had snapped at Scott, saying things along the lines of: “Stiles has done nothing wrong.”, “Don’t become your father.” and “Stiles will always be a son to me but I was always by your side, I will always choose you.” Scott had scoffed at that last one, laughed, in fact. Stiles understood her, he understood that Scott was _her_ son, _her_ boy – Scott had messed up but that would never change her feelings. Maybe it would never truly change Stiles’, either. Maybe, despite everything and despite Stiles’ best efforts, Stiles would always miss Scott. Or maybe he just missed the echo of what Scott used to be.

Scott had gone inside, then. Come back out with his last bag, ignored Melissa’s begging and pleading for him to stay. Ignored her shouts and calls. He didn’t even say goodbye.

Kira had given her a sad smile before they pulled out. Stiles could already tell that smile would haunt Melissa for years to come.

“I can’t believe he thinks I don’t love him.” She said out of the blue. Stiles knew why and what she meant, though – his own ghosts (ones with dark hair and matching eyes, so reminiscent of his own mother) looming over him, dark and haunting in the stillness of the room. It was a lot to take in all at once.

A lot of different emotions ran through him in quick succession. Anger at Scott for hurting Melissa and for leaving. Sadness at the fact that Scott thought that, even if Stiles were to become human again, there was no redeeming him. Disbelief that Scott would hurt his mother because of his prejudices against Stiles. Fear at the prospect of never being mortal again. Guilt for thinking about himself in a situation like this. It was all too much.

Ignoring the incessant spinning that pressed against his skull, he stood up and began to pace.

“I couldn’t stop him, Stiles. He wouldn’t listen to me. I said some things that I already regret and he won’t answer the phone or my texts. I tried to explain everything but he just ignored me.” She took a deep breath and then drank some of her water. Stiles ran his hands through his hair, tilted his head back and sighed.

“Alright, I’ll see if Lydia can get through to him. If she can, do you want her to tell him anything?” It was the least he could do since he was the reason that Scott left. 

Guilt washed over him again. Taking over the predominant crawling fear and anger.

“Tell him… Tell him that I’m sorry, tell him to come home and that I will love him no matter what.” Stiles nodded. He didn’t know if he should stay to comfort Melissa or leave her alone. She was grieving a son that wasn’t dead; they both knew he wouldn’t be coming home for years. If he ever did.

“Okay.” He said instead, “Okay.” He turned to leave, muttering under his breath about what to do next, but stopped at the door to turn back: “I’m sorry.” Stiles didn’t know if she understood that it was not obligation that had forced those words from his too-tight throat. He knew, though.

**> >>>** **>**

“Scott?” Lydia tried to prevent her voice from shaking. Out of rage or pain, she wasn’t sure but she knew she had to remain calm and neutral. If he thought she was calling to reprimand him then he would hang up immediately.

“Lydia, hi.” His voice was rough, like he’d just woken up. She would start there to try to establish some form of trust.

“Did I wake you?” 

“Yeah, but it’s fine, I needed to get up soon anyway.” There was a short pause, it wasn’t awkward, just full of words that were left unsaid. Lydia needed to bring this up without pushing him.

“Why, are you going somewhere?” 

“Yeah, Kira and I are on our way to… Mom put you up to this didn’t she?” She should’ve seen that one coming. She moved to sit down on her bed. It wouldn’t be too hard to fix but she could use this to her advantage.

“She just wants me to let you know a few things.” She recited what Stiles had asked her to say before saying, “You hurt her, Scott.”

There was another silence, this one weighted and incessant. The sob was like a twig snapping in a forest; a wave crashing in a calm ocean. Lydia stayed quiet, waited, hoped for him to speak first. When he did, she wished he hadn’t, “I am sorry, I’m so sorry.”

“What?” She croaked, his words a trap that wound around hers.

“I didn’t want to hurt her, she doesn’t deserve that. I just had to get away and she was making that too hard and I didn’t know how to… I just couldn’t. I knew there was no point in trying to get her to come with me; she has a good job, a good life.”

“You didn’t have to leave.”

“Yes, I did! You all support a _murderer_. He killed an innocent human and you stand by him.” Scott spat, voice so loud Lydia found herself moving the phone further away from her ear. “You’re the reason I left, you and the rest of The Pack. You even made Jackson, who hates Stiles, join your side. You... you ruined everything!”

“There are no sides. We stand by Stiles, not what he did. We’ve all done things we regret, Scott. You forgave Derek despite Paige, Peter, Kate. Stiles may have killed that innocent but he had no choice.” She believed what she was saying, why couldn’t he? 

“There is always a choice.” Scott’s voice echoed in a way almost indescribable.

Lydia sighed, “Like your choice to cheat on Isaac?” Scott said nothing, “Or your choice to leave your mother? Your choice to break a nearly life-long friendship because of something instinctual, something forced upon him, and despite how much he helped and supported you throughout your own change? Your choice to ignore Stiles’ explanation?” Still, Scott stayed quiet. “Well, I have one more choice for you: come home, help us. We need a true alpha to bite Stiles after a ritual, it will turn him human.”

“No.” The response was instant – a slap to the face.

“This is what you want; Stiles will be human.” Lydia didn’t understand, she hated not understanding. Her plan to win Scott over had failed, horribly, so had her plan to guilt him. Maybe, just maybe, pandering to Scott’s dark side (the one that had made the decision to leave, to lash out at Stiles) would work.

“I want it to go back to how it was, how it used to be.” That voice, spine-chilling, monotone, cold, it was so out of character, so… wrong.

“Before Stiles was a vampire?” 

“Before all of this!”

“It can’t, Scott. That’s _impossible_.” Lydia frowned and stood up only to sit on the chair by her vanity.

“I know that.” He sighed, “I won’t help Stiles because Stiles hates being a vampire. I forgave Derek because we needed him, he was helpful. Peter and Kate were not innocent. Paige was not him, it was Ennis.” Lydia wanted to explain the links between Stiles’ situation and Derek’s but Scott ploughed on, “Stiles killed that person, then drained them of their blood. He hates what he is and if he was a human then he would start to love himself again. He doesn’t deserve that.

“Tell my mom that I’m sorry.” He hung up.


	13. Realisations And Remedies.

**~~~~~**

“So he’s not coming back?” Derek asked as he watched Stiles pace the length of the room – something he tended to do when he was nervous – hands working his hair into a tangled mess. He was muttering quietly to himself but Derek didn’t dare to listen in.

“Not for a long time. Scott doesn’t want to help Stiles.” Lydia sighed, dropping down onto Derek’s couch. Her eyes followed Stiles’ movements.

“Why? I mean I can guess why… I assumed that he would say no because he hates me. And maybe he doesn’t think I can be saved. In fact, I’m sure that’s it. So don’t tell me. You don’t need to tell me. But I need to know what he said so that… so that I--” his voice slowly trailed off, down a path of fear and hatred. His words tumbled into one another, desperate to get out all at once yet none of them wanted to be first. Derek knew he had to do something, and soon. One look at Lydia confirmed this.

He pushed off of the wall he had been leaning on and walked over to Stiles. Extending his hand, he kept his voice low as he spoke Stiles’ name. Stiles grasped it and let Derek pull him over to the couch where he lay down, feet in Lydia’s lap, head in Derek’s. “Stiles, we’ll figure this out.”   
  
“I have Deaton looking into why it needs to be a true alpha. As I said before, the rest of The Pack are looking into other ways, which is why I don’t think we should go after Evalyn right now. Even Isaac and Danny are helping. Isaac said that it’s helping him keep his mind off everything.” Lydia informed them. The room fell into silence for a long while.

Derek ran his fingers through Stiles’ hair, slowly tugging out every knot as he thought. What if they did what Scott did to him with Gerard: forced Scott to bite Stiles? He let himself entertain the idea for a few moments. It would be nice; watching Scott struggle and fight against his instincts and Derek’s own hand. Beautiful revenge. So sweet that Derek could almost taste it. Maybe they would use wolfsbane to subdue him, maybe they would have to ask Jackson for some of his kanima venom – if he could still make that. Maybe they’d have to rough him up a bit – he’d let Stiles have a go, obviously. It would all be for Stiles… 

He shook his head. He sounded insane. Stiles wouldn’t want that. Scott may have broken his trust, loyalty, a life long friendship, but he hadn’t broken  _ Stiles.  _ He knew that, deep down, Stiles still loved Scott. Missed him, most days, too. Derek refused to hurt Stiles like that.

And besides, Scott had had his reasons at the time. Derek knew that. If Scott  _ had  _ told him what his plan was, then he wouldn’t have agreed to it. Not back then. And, by now, they would struggle to find him. It was late, and Scott had left early morning yesterday, his scent would be fading fast. By the time they got to the outer edges of town, it would have faded too much to be able to follow.

Stiles’ phone rang, shattering the silence like a bullet to glass. Pulling himself up, he grabbed it from the table and answered it. He didn’t bother to leave; Derek could just listen in either way. “Hey, Dad.”

“Hey, kiddo. How’re you holding up? Lydia explained everything to us earlier.” Noah asked, voice muffled and crackling on the other end.

“I’ve been better, have any news?”

“Actually, yeah. There’s some suspicious activity just outside Beacon Hills. Don’t get your hopes up though, son, it might just be a beta.” It was too late for that. Stiles was already up and halfway to the door before Noah could even finish. Derek quickly explained what had been said to Lydia and then they were jogging after him.

**~~~~~**

As it turned out, Noah had been half right. It was an omega wolf. She had been looking for Scott and as soon as they had told her that he had left, she bolted. Everyone had gone home disappointed. 

**~~~~~**

It was a week later before they got any more news. During that week, not a lot happened. Derek and Stiles spent most of their time at Stiles’ house researching. And if they weren’t there then they were at Derek’s with The Pack looking through books and chatting. 

It was all rather surreal; The Pack, now all officially Derek’s Pack, were all just… getting along. Before Scott had left, they argued,  _ constantly.  _ It didn’t matter what it was about – what movie to watch, what food was better, who killed who in a video game – there was always  _ something _ . But now? Now it was calmer. Almost too calm. It made Derek feel like they should be preparing for a storm to toss them out to sea.

But the storm had already been and gone, had it not? Yet there could always be another one. Then again, maybe this was just everyone coming together to help each other heal. They needed time, after all. Or maybe Scott had been the catalyst for everything that was  _ bad _ . Maybe, if Derek traced all the fights back, big and small, he would be able to find Scott at the root of it all. He was thinking too deep into this. It didn’t matter, either way, he was grateful that they were all coming together to help Stiles.

He looked over at Stiles to see that he was smiling. Bright and large and genuine. Their eyes met and that smile became the small one that was made specifically for Derek, the one that made him feel like a teenager with everything to live for and nothing to lose. 

The door slid open with a loud  _ clack _ and Lydia strode through. Her face was sombre but Derek could tell that she was buzzing inside. The Pack clambered around her after she sat down. “So, Deaton managed to dig up a couple of old notebooks about Ophidian vamps. One of which was written by the person who figured out how to change one back.” 

Stiles pressed himself into Derek’s side, startling him as he’d been too distracted by what Lydia had said to notice Stiles sidle up next to him. He wrapped his arm around Stiles’ shoulders nonetheless.

“One of the pages was nearly illegible but, after we managed to decipher it we realised that it was exactly what we had been looking for. It explained that the reason it had to be a true alpha was because they are powerful and pure in their intentions. In theory, this would mean that we can use any powerful alpha whose only intention is to help the vampire.” All eyes turned to Derek. 

“Der, if you aren’t comfortable doing this then I understand.” Stiles hummed, keeping his voice low despite knowing most of The Pack could hear him anyway.

“I’ll do whatever is necessary.” His grip around Stiles tightened, and his tone made his words sound more like a threat than a promise.

“You should think about it--”   
  
“I already have, Stiles. I couldn’t  _ stop _ thinking about it.” Despite his best efforts.

“Okay, if you’re sure. Thank you.” There was no falsity, no faked truths or half-heartedness about the way he said those two simple words:  _ thank you. _ Stiles’ eyes glistened darker than usual, the too-dark sparkle of his other side, he blinked and it was gone.

Lydia cleared her throat, “I guess the next step would be to find Evalyn.”

Stiles grinned in a way that was unfamiliar, raw, detached and too-full, “I guess so.” And so, so beautiful.


	14. So... What's The Plan?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Mention of needles

**~~~~~**

Stiles sprawled across Derek’s bed. He had already told his father the news an hour or so ago, and The Pack had all decided that they would think of a plan tomorrow before leaving. Now it was just Stiles and Derek left in the loft. “Are you sure you trust me enough to let me bite you? What if the notebook is wrong and I end up hurting you?” Derek had wanted to ask earlier but there had been too many people. When it was just Stiles, though, everything was just…  _ Easier _ .

Stiles sat up, eyes trailing over Derek, taking him in, “Derek, Sourwolf, Dere-bear,” he smiled that small, private smile, “I trust you with everything I have and everything I  _ am _ .” The words sang in Derek’s ears and danced around his head. Laced with something Derek didn’t quite understand. “I trust that you won’t hurt me.” Derek sat down next to him.

“Do you?” His voice crumbled under the intensity of the moment.

Stiles reaches forward to tilt Derek’s head up, “Yes.” 

“I trust you, too.” He wished he could make it sound just as poetic as Stiles had. The words seem to have their desired effect nevertheless; Stiles’ eyes lit up and he ducked his head.

Something was going through Stiles’ head, Derek could see that. For a brief second, he wondered if he was second-guessing himself. Then Stiles spoke again, “I know we said we’d make a plan tomorrow but I kind of hate feeling so unprepared. Lydia hasn’t even told us when the bite needs to happen! I just want to know what to do.”

Derek moved closer, pulling Stiles’ hands into his lap to trace the lines on his palms. “I know, Sti. I know it’s hard, I know it’s been hard, but we’re getting close now. All we have to do is find Evalyn, wait for the new moon and then everything will be in our control. We’ll be able to call the shots.” Stiles’ shoulders dropped, he leaned forward until his head pressed into Derek’s chest. And, in that moment, Derek was so strongly reminded that Stiles was still  _ only _ seventeen. Yes, his birthday was next month but he was still  _ young _ ; six years younger than Derek. He seemed so much older. Dealing with this much at seventeen, he didn’t deserve that. 

All Derek could do right now though was offer support, so he pulled Stiles onto his lap and let Stiles bury his face in the crook of his neck. They both needed this. In amongst the quiet, dry sobs that escaped Stiles’ lips he heard a small, “One day.” Stiles’ fingers curled into the back of his shirt.

**~~~~~**

When Derek went to sleep, Stiles curled around him – he wouldn’t need to sleep for hours to come but he’d said that he didn’t want to leave Derek’s side or be alone right now. So they lay there. And in the state between consciousness and sleeping, a soft pair of lips fell to Derek’s brow – maybe he was already asleep.

*********

Stiles pushed the door to the loft open. He’d gone home before Derek had woken up so that he could feed. Derek kept insisting that he keep a few blood bags at the loft but Stiles prefered to eat alone whenever possible. After Stiles had explained this, Derek had respected his boundaries and backed off. That thought put a smile on his face.

Although, as soon as he walked through the door, it fell away, replaced with a frown as he looked into a set of wild eyes, “Woah, Der, where’s the fire?” Derek opened his mouth to speak, registered what Stiles had said, and growled instead. As he turned away, eyes mimicking the spin of his body, Stiles laughed, “What?” But he pinched his lips together when that only resulted in Derek glaring at him.

“You were gone.” There was a moment of genuine pain in Derek’s voice but it disappeared quickly – he couldn’t hide it in his scent, though. Stiles thought they had gotten past the hiding emotions part of their relationship.

“Yeah, I do that.” He smirked, trying to get a smile out of his wolf… he blinked; Derek wasn’t  _ his _ anything. Shaking his head, he moved closer to Derek and hugged him from behind. “I was hungry.”   
  
“You should’ve left a note.”

“You’re cute when you’re worried.” Stiles chuckled, Derek just growled again, “I’m sorry, I’ll leave a note next time.” Derek turned in Stiles’ arms and buried his head in Stiles’ neck.

“I am  _ not _ cute. I could kill you with my teeth alone.”

“So could a Polar Bear if it tried hard enough. Doesn’t mean they aren’t cute.” Stiles untangled himself and made his way over to the kitchen to make breakfast for The Pack. Derek followed after him, a small smile gracing his lips.

*********

“So, what’s the plan?” Stiles asked, addressing The Pack as a whole.

“Well, step one would be to find Evalyn.” She explained to The Pack that they’d already talked to Deaton about how they would do that. “Then we wait for the next new moon and do the ritual, I’ll explain how we do that later as we have more important matters at hand. Like how to take Evalyn away from her coven.” That was all rather obvious but it was good to make sure they were all on the same page. Stiles nodded and, once a few questions had been answered, spoke up again.

“Maybe we won’t have to take her away from her coven. We just need a vial of her blood after all.”

“What are you suggesting, Stiles?” Lydia asked.

“We distract her coven. If I remember correctly, Marco will be the hardest to get away from her. But once they’re distracted we can jam a needle into her vein and take her blood.” It seemed simple enough, they could fight the rest of the coven long enough for Stiles to collect the blood. But they’d need a plan to keep them distracted.

“Would that work, would a needle be strong enough to pierce her skin?” Isaac asked, leaning closer to Danny when everyone turned to look at him. “It’s just, I saw Stiles slip with the knife when cutting up the strawberries for breakfast when I came in and it didn’t even leave a scratch.”

“That’s true, it barely hurt either.” Stiles sighed. “So how are we supposed to get her blood then?”

“We could try a silver-coated needle,” Mason suggested.

Lydia hummed and said, “We could. Although, we might have to test it first, just in case.” She pulled her hair over her shoulder and looked at Stiles.

“Oh, no. No, no, no, no. You are not sticking a needle in me.” Stiles stood up and backed away, tripping on a pair of shoes that had been unceremoniously chucked there by Ethan earlier. “I don’t do needles. Nope. No. Nuh-uh.” 

Derek caught him when he tripped again, pulling him closer to stop him from continuing his escape. “Stiles, it’ll only be for a second and I’ll stay right next to you the whole time.” Derek’s eyes stayed focused on Stiles’. Stiles wondered if it was because, as Derek had told him before, it was easier to talk when it was just him and Stiles, or if it was because he was trying to get Stiles to understand that he meant it. Either way, Stiles felt slightly calmer knowing that Derek wouldn’t leave his side.

He still didn’t want a needle anywhere near him though, “I- no, Der, I can’t. Please.” 

“What do you suggest we do then?” Jackson asked, interrupting the moment. “We managed to kill some of them, we could just kill her.”

“The rest of her coven are probably not her fledgelings, meaning she won’t be able to be killed in the same way you killed some of the others.” Lydia sighed.

“That and she’s the head of the coven, so she’ll be stronger,” Stiles added on. He let out a long sigh; they’d have to test the needle on him if he wanted any chance of being human ever again.

“If you do keep her and her coven alive, she will go after you. Vampires do not take any threat lightly.” Peter stated as he strode off the staircase and over to where Stiles and Derek stood. “I’d recommend killing them, as Jackson suggested, but that may be difficult if unprepared.” 

“We can’t just kill them all.” Liam’s voice seemed unsure, wavering in the silence that had fallen after Peter had spoken.

“What would you do then, Little Wolf?” Peter tilted his head, looking over at Liam.

“I don’t know, but we can’t just kill them all.”

“No, he’s right, there were a lot of them. We’d end up losing, we might be able to distract but not kill. But Peter’s also right.” Stiles said. There was one thing that he knew – that his instincts told him – that they could use against her. “I think I have a plan.”


	15. Evalyn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Needles

*********

_“I’m just going to have to suck it up, we’ll test the needle on me.”_

Deaton had one already, he didn’t give an explanation as to why he did and Stiles gave up asking pretty quickly.

They did it at Derek’s, Stiles lying on his side on the couch. Derek held his hand the whole time. 

“Sti.” Derek caught Stiles’ attention. Stiles wasn’t entirely sure when the nicknames had become a regular thing but he was glad they had; it sent a calming shiver through him. “Are you sure?” Stiles nodded.

“If you keep asking then I might back out.” He chuckled but it held no mirth, “I’ll be fine just… don’t let go.” Derek squeezed his hand as if to say: “I would never.”

Lydia stepped forward, “Ready?”

“Let’s get this over and done with.” 

“Alright.” She smiled and took Stiles’ other hand. She pushed his flannel off his shoulder – the one facing the ceiling – and his shirt sleeve up before saying, “Don’t tense.” Then the needle was pressing into his arm and his grip on Derek’s hand was tightening until his nails pressed into Derek's skin. He pulled useless air into his lungs, pressed it out through his teeth and then... it was over.

As soon as Lydia had stepped away, Derek pulled Stiles into his arms. It was only then, when he felt Derek’s shirt grow wet, that he realised that he was crying. “It’s okay, it’s over now.”

_“Then, obviously, we need to find Evalyn. Derek and I will go to Deaton’s to get on that.”_

Stiles pushed the door to the vets open and called out for Deaton. They’d phoned ahead to check that he wasn’t away or busy.

“In here.” Following his voice to the back, they were greeted by the sight of a map of America laid across the large metal table. Stiles stepped forward to examine it for no reason other than to have something to do.

“Are you ready? Deaton asked as he walked in, a silver-coated pin pinched between his fingers. Stiles couldn’t help but wonder, again, why he owned so many things coated in silver.

“As ready as I’ll ever be.” Although a pin wasn’t the same as a needle, it still wasn’t pleasant. He held his hand out, already knowing how this would work. Derek moved next to him, gripping his other hand again. Stiles glanced over at him and as he did so Deaton pricked his finger. 

“Rub your finger on here.” He handed Stiles a necklace; hanging from it was a small gold cross. Before his finger healed, he did as instructed, smearing his blood over the cross. “Now place it on Beacon Hills and say her name as it said in the book.” Stiles nodded, thinking back to the book and the words below the title.

Finding Beacon Hills was easy, he coiled the chain around the cross on the map and said, “Evalyn, I, as your fledgeling, wish to know your location.” The chain moved, the cross trailing after. It stopped suddenly. When the map went up in flames, Stiles lept back, right into Derek’s chest. All that was left was the area around the cross. 

“You okay?” Derek asked, curling an arm around Stiles’ waist. Stiles laughed, “Yeah, I’m fine. I just wasn’t expecting that.” Derek leaned forward, around Stiles, and picked up the piece of paper.

“That’s only an hour away,” Stiles stated. “I thought they would've gone further than that.”

_“Once we have her position, we’ll hang back and Derek, you’ll go out to talk to her.”_

It only took them a day to prepare everything before leaving. Lydia had suggested that they have everything ready for when they come back since the new moon was soon. And then they were on their way to Evalyn.

As it turned out, it wasn’t hard to find them. The coven were all revelling in the sun in a large open clearing in a forest, outside an old mansion. They must have befriended a witch of some kind, or at least one must’ve owed them a favour, as they all had charms allowing them to walk around in daylight. It made the next several steps of the plan so much easier. 

Derek stepped out. “A wolf! On our territory?” Someone yelled.

“I’m here to speak with Evalyn,” Derek said, voice calm.

“I am here.” She hissed, moving to stand in front of Derek, Marco behind her.

“We need your blood.” A ripple of laughter sang through the clearing, starting with Evalyn and ending with her.

“No chance.”

“Oh?"

_“Then, on Derek’s signal, you’ll all file out from wherever you’re hiding. I’ll hang back.”_

The Pack created a semi-circle behind him.

“You think you can threaten me, mutt?” Evalyn said, eyes narrowing to slits.

“This is not a threat, this is a promise of revenge.” Derek snarled, lip curling up.

“For what?” Marco asked, silenced quickly by Evalyn’s hand.

“For turning one of our Pack,” Isaac said.

“And who might that be?”

_“And then, after I’ve come out, it’s on my signal.”_

_  
_ Stiles stepped out from behind a large tree. If he was being completely honest with himself then he would say that the only reason he had stayed behind was for a more dramatic entrance. But that wasn’t important right now.

“Ah, yes, _Stiles_.” He hated the way that she said his name. “I thought you would be dead by now, little Lost Boy.” Stiles shivered.

“And why would that be? Did you think I wouldn’t survive the change, or did you just think that my Pack would shun me?” Evalyn’s coven crowded in, they had at least eight more than The Pack does. It didn’t worry Stiles, their plan should work.

“Hmm, I’ve always got a backup plan.” Someone leapt forward to attack Stiles but Stiles got there first, pinning the black-haired girl to the floor – that’s all she was; a _girl,_ not a woman but a _child._ Fourteen at the most. It made Stiles feel sick.

“I’m not fighting a child.” 

“Oh, I assure you, she is not a child,” Evalyn said.

The girl hissed, not like Evalyn’s, more like a cat’s, and pushed Stiles off her. Stiles stood, and they circled each other. When Stiles failed to harm the girl, Peter stepped up. He snapped her neck and she fell. That could _not_ have been her only backup.

“She was not young, Stiles. I think now is a good time.” Peter said. Stiles agreed.

With a small nod of his head, The Pack came to life.

_“I’ll need most of you to fight them, keep an eye on each other, have each other’s backs. Don’t let anyone get taken by one of them.”_

Everyone took on one or two vampires, nodding and signalling to each other, working together in a way they had never before. Some had armed themselves with silver-coated knives (provided by Deaton) and others had opted to stick with their claws, teeth and strength. They did as instructed, helping one another where possible and protecting those that needed longer to heal. Shadowing and echoing each other’s movements in a dance of perfect synchronicity. 

_“While you do that, I’ll focus on Evalyn.”_

Stiles, however, stuck solely with Evalyn. He hated hearing his Pack cry out but he knew that they would be okay, eventually. Although, hearing bodies thud to the ground had him wincing and hoping that they weren’t one of his. Trust was essential right now, and he trusted his Pack to look after one another.

“So, this is your plan? Put your Pack in danger for your gain.” She was trying to get inside his head, trying to make him feel guilty. He wouldn’t let her.

“They had a choice. I gave them a choice.” She chuckled and took a step closer. Marco had tried to stay with her but Derek had dragged him away quickly. That was good, that was what Stiles needed. It didn’t stop him from wishing that Derek was still next to him, supporting him in this. “I always give people a choice.”

“You're referring to me turning you.” Her sickly-sweet smile was broken by venomous fangs. “Your Pack killed mine. I got revenge.” She took another step closer. Stiles matched it.

“You were killing innocent people. You had already made your decision.” She hissed and lunged at Stiles. There was no way he could beat her with power – she had too many years on him and he had never been particularly good strength wise – but he knew the theory of many different types of fighting and he had always been smart when it came to strategy. He just hoped that and the minimal practice he had done with Derek and his dad before, would be enough.

“We need to feed, you know that.”  
  
“And feeding from animals is… what?”

“Not enough.” She said simply. “It might be for you, but that’s only for now. As you age it will become too difficult. You will crave human blood.” Then she smirked, “More than you already crave your mate’s blood.” Stiles froze. Lydia had given him a significant look when she mentioned mates before but he hadn’t wanted to think about it. Mates were a complicated thing, their bonds impossible to explain. It was something that took years to forge and any effort to break it once completed was futile. So there was no way that he and Derek were mates, not yet. Maybe not ever.

“Oh, you poor thing, you didn’t know that he was your mate.” The word “ _was”_ had him checking the field for Derek. His ears zoned in on Derek’s heartbeat before his eyes could find him. But it was too late, Evalyn had taken her opportunity and pushed Stiles down.

_“Danny I’m going to give you a rather important job. You too, Isaac. Danny, when you see an opening, no matter how I look, I want you to make a circle around us with mountain ash. No one else can be inside – just me and Evalyn. Isaac, you keep an eye on him, have his back and don’t allow anyone near him._ ”

Stiles didn’t need to look to know that Danny had taken the chance to surround them. Evalyn hadn’t noticed, not yet anyway.

“If I were to kill you then all of their efforts would be in vain. How _upsetting_.” She leaned closer to him, teeth nearing his throat, but was startled back by a yell of, “Watch out!” from someone in her coven. She looked up to see Danny just as he closed the circle. It was a little smaller than Stiles would’ve liked but he could work with it.

He pulled his knee up and in, using the extra space she had created to put it between them and push up, twisting his hand out of her grip faster than any human could and hitting her in the chin. It didn’t do as much as he had hoped (due to her strength) but it had done enough for him to be able to roll away from her grip. Standing up, he stumbled slightly and looked around. _Perfect._

_“Everyone will come to watch, her coven will want to protect her.”_

They were all gathering around to try to break the barrier. Their leader had not yet fallen, they would protect her at all costs.

The two paced around each other for a moment. “Give me a vial of your blood and this will end now.”  
  
She bit out a laugh, “No.” She spoke as if Stiles were merely a child. He supposed relative to her he was barely an infant. Not that he knew how old she was.

“I didn’t want to have to do this… That's a lie, I very much did.” Stiles ran forward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is that two chapters in two days? Yes, I think it is. I hope you are all okay!


	16. Unknown Instincts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Needles

**~~~~~**

Derek watched as Stiles and Evalyn fought. He’d had no doubts about Stiles’ plan but seeing it this close to the end made him wonder if it  _ would  _ work. What if Evalyn was stronger than Stiles had anticipated? What if she was smarter? What if they couldn’t get to Stiles quick enough? He had to shake his head and focus on Stiles to calm himself down. Stiles was smart, he could do this. He had everything planned out, Derek knew that, so he had probably planned for every variable, too.

The Pack and The Coven were on opposite sides of the circle in an almost perfect divide. There appeared to be fewer of them, although Derek couldn’t tell if it was because The Pack had killed them or if they had just run away. Judging by the lack of dead bodies in the clearing, he’d assume the latter. It surprised him, though.

As much as Derek wanted to keep watching Stiles, make sure he was okay and not on the losing side, he also knew that it wouldn’t do anyone any good. So he let his eyes flick between the two inside the circle and the rest of Evalyn’s Coven. Some of them were just watching, amused, a few were trying to break the mountain ash ring, and others were calling out warnings. Not that any of that did any good. It had Derek smirking though; watching all their worthless efforts.

The Pack, however, were all cheering Stiles on. It appeared to be helping, every call fueling Stiles’ desire to be human, to stay with them – the people he loved so much – for the rest of his life. To not outlive them. It was beautiful, and it had Derek joining in every time his eyes strayed from the other side. Seeing Stiles’ extra burst of energy any time he heard Derek’s voice made his stomach twist in a way he hadn’t felt… ever. Not with Paige or Kate, and definitely not with Jennifer.

In the pandemonium, no one seemed to notice that Marco was nowhere to be seen. 

Derek had been fighting him earlier but it hadn’t lasted long; Marco was weak in comparison to him. Derek had knocked him to the ground in seconds and, instead of wasting any more time on him, had rushed to help the others. In spite of the overwhelming urge to help Stiles, he had stuck to only keeping an eye on him as he was now. 

He didn’t let it worry him though, as Marco had probably fled with the others. Seen his chance to get away and taken it.

When Evalyn had her hand around Stiles’ neck, that’s when fear flooded Derek again. Stiles may not need to breathe but Evalyn had him in the perfect position to snap his neck. All she had to do was move her hand up a little more and…

Stiles broke free, twisting and pushing, grabbing her wrists and pulling her up with him only to use the leverage he had gained to spin her around. With her pinned to his chest, arms folded over her front, Stiles could easily rip her throat out.

Derek remembered what Stiles had said: “If I take her blood from her neck, then that puts her in a submissive position. Just like if I were to drink her blood from her neck. And being put in a submissive position by anyone, let alone a fledgeling, in front of her Coven makes her seem weak, she will no longer be seen as powerful enough to run it.” 

He just hoped that Stiles was right. He was going off pure instinct.

Derek’s eyes flicked over to The Coven to see them all go completely still. If Stiles took her blood now, they would all be witnesses. Some bowed their heads in respect, some watched with rapt attention as Stiles pulled out the needle with one hand, the other still around her wrists. She struggled and, when her strength failed her, let her legs fall out from under her. Stiles swore loudly. 

Derek called out as Evalyn twisted in his grip and freed her hands, knocking the needle out away in the process. It rolled and landed just at the edge of the ring. On the inside. 

Danny rushed over, Isaac right behind him. He moved to reach in, but Isaac grabbed his wrist, “Not yet, Evalyn’s too close.” He said, voice hushed, by Danny’s ear.

Those that hadn’t been watching, looked up. Those that had looked as if even the idea that Stiles had had the chance to take her blood was too much, that she was too weak. But it didn’t stop Evalyn, in fact, it only seemed to egg her on. She redoubled her efforts and, using her position on the floor to her advantage, swung her leg out. Succeeding in tripping Stiles up, she smirked and stood above him. “You cannot win, Stiles.”   
  
“Now,” Isaac muttered to Danny, who stuck his hand past the line and picked the needle up. Stiles gave him a nod of recognition as he pushed himself up.

Evalyn looked around, “Why are none of you doing anything?” It was enough for them to begin to move but they didn’t get very far before they were stopping to watch her next move as Stiles had, rather petulantly, shoved her.

“Give up, Stiles.” 

“No, you took the last of my normalcy and now I want it back.”

“Why now, after months?” Evalyn asked. Less out of curiosity and more just to keep him talking.

“Because I was reminded why I don’t want this.” Stiles’ eyes trailed over to Derek, Isaac, Danny, Lydia, all of The Pack. “I was reminded of why I can’t just sit back and watch everyone I love die.” And with that, he called out to Danny, caught the needle and surged forward. 

Derek no longer had to pay attention to The Coven to know that none of them were stupid enough to try anything right now. So instead he focused solely on Stiles. The two fought for a few more minutes before Stiles managed to trick Evalyn. It was a classic move but he had been playing dumb, using very few tactics beforehand. Faking right and spinning left in a bizarre show of grace he caught her around the waist with one hand, his other gripping her wrist to his chest, he twisted and used his back as leverage to throw her over his shoulder and to the ground. Then, still with a grip on her wrist, he yanked her to her knees, her back to him, and pushed the needle into her neck.

It happened too fast. The silence that followed pressed in around them. Every heartbeat, every breath, every thought – halted. And then Derek felt as though he had been swimming underwater for too long, his lungs screaming for air, his heartbeat in his ears breaking the quiet, his body fighting to the surface, wading through thick  _ nothing _ . Until finally,  _ finally, _ he broke free. The sound around him crashed in, crowded his every sense and paralysed his every muscle. 

Everyone in The Pack was cheering, they had done it. They had  _ done it.  _ Everything was in their hands now. And, as Stiles had predicted, The Coven sneered at their weak former leader, booing and spitting on her. The circle was broken and no one bothered to check on her, no one cared. They all left, some with one or two others, some alone. But that didn’t matter because they had  _ won.  _ Stiles had defeated her and Derek should go over and congratulate him, hug him. Because, yes, they may have a little ways to go but Evalyn had been defeated. So Derek  _ should  _ go over there. He  _ should  _ go and celebrate with the rest of his Pack except…

Derek rushed forward as a great hulking black shape flew through the air toward Stiles. He pushed off the ground, shifting as he did so, clawed hands aimed for the  _ thing’s  _ mid-region, fanged mouth open and ready to tear into whatever it was. They tumbled to the ground, Derek throwing his weight until they stopped, Derek poised on top. Everything around him stilled once again. 

“Marco?” Evalyn, lying only a few feet away, called out. She was weakened by the loss of her Coven and the fight but she could still stand if she tried. But it appeared she didn’t see the point. She had nothing left. Maybe they should feel bad for her but it was hard to feel anything except anger – unadulterated  _ rage –  _ for putting Stiles through what she had.

Marco ignored her in favour of saying, “You ruined her.” Then louder, his head twisting to look at Stiles who now stood by Derek’s shoulder, “You ruined  _ everything _ !”

“No, she did,” Stiles said, then nodded at Derek. He sat up enough to place his hands in position.

“You’ve taken enough from me.” Evalyn pushed herself up but it was too late, Derek twisted his hands, the snap of Marco’s neck harmonising with Evalyn’s shout. 

“You didn’t love him,” Stiles said. “You wanted him because he was loyal to you.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.” Her voice was void of all emotion as she moved closer to Stiles. Again Derek had to fight the urge to help Stiles. He would finish her himself if needs be.

“Don’t I?”

“He was my  _ mate! _ ” She stumbled and fell, now also weakened from her snapped bond. 

“Stiles, if you don’t kill her, I will,” Peter stated, and when Stiles made no move to do as he asked, Peter stepped up beside him.

“I can’t,” Stiles said quietly, guilt lacing his voice. He stepped away, into Derek’s arms and turned his head into the crook of Derek’s neck. Pulling Stiles closer, Derek hushed him.

_ Now  _ the hard part was over.


	17. Marred Skin.

**~~~~~**

“So, when are you doing the ritual?” Noah asked Stiles.

“Well, the new moon is in two days, so… then.” 

“And you’re sure that it’s going to work?”

“No,” Stiles said, “But it’s the only option we have. It should be safe though.”

“I don’t like the sound of ‘should be’, but you’ve done a lot of things with worse odds and I know there’s no stopping you. So,” Noah turned his attention to Derek and continued, “you’ll make sure that he’s okay, you’ll stay by his side. I’ll be at work but you will call me if anything goes wrong, the moment it goes wrong.” It was very clearly not a question but Derek replied nevertheless.

“Yes, sir.” 

“Good.” The room fell into a comfortable silence for a long moment, only broken by the murmuring from the T.V. “Alright, I’d better get going. No funny business while I’m gone.” Noah pulled himself off the couch and began making his way upstairs, only laughing when Stiles groaned.

“We aren’t together, Dad. We’ve been over this.”

“Sure you’re not,” Noah called back.

Derek laughed loudly, Stiles grinned at him. They spent the day watching movies, curled up together. Things were looking up.

**~~~~~**

“Derek?” 

“Yeah, Stiles?”

“Promise me that if anything were to go wrong, you won’t blame yourself for it.” Stiles grabbed Derek’s hands in his own and squeezed them.

“Stiles, don’t say--”

“Promise me, Derek.”

“I… promise.”

**~~~~~**

“Alright, is everyone clear on the plan?” Lydia looked around the room at all the nodding heads, “Good. We’d better get going.”

Derek grabbed Stiles’ wrist, pulling him back as the rest of The Pack made their way towards the door. “Are you sure that you’re ready for this?” Stiles gave him a soft smile and wrapped his arms around Derek’s waist. Derek hugged him back.

“Yeah, I’m sure. Just… Don’t leave my side, okay?”

“I won’t.” Stiles pulled away, grabbing his hand. The two jogged to catch up with the others.

**~~~~~**

They had decided the best place to do the ritual would be in a clearing in the preserve, in the hopes of avoiding attracting any unwanted attention. Lydia wasn’t sure if the ritual would cause any sort of bright or loud reaction so it was safest to be as far away from everyone as possible. But they still wanted to be able to get Stiles back home, if needs be.

“Okay, Stiles do you have that piece of paper that I gave you?”

“Yes, Lydia, I didn’t lose it on the two-minute walk.”

“I was just making sure.” She smiled sweetly at him and he rolled his eyes, “Alright, you should start scratching those sigils onto the trees.” Stiles nodded, pulling out a small knife and beginning step one of the ritual. 

Derek wanted to help him but Lydia had told them that Stiles had to do most of this on his own as the sigils would draw magic from him. The magic she was referring to was the magic that made Stiles what he was. It was the same magic that flowed through every supernatural’s veins. But, like each supernatural, the magic was unique to each and every one of them. It was impossible to harness it in any way other than the one it was intended for. That was the legend, anyway.

Each sigil that Stiles was carving into the trees was different and meant different things, Lydia had explained to them, and each one would need a different amount of power. After drawing each one Stiles would grow physically weaker as they were stripping him of his vampire abilities. And once that was gone, they would begin to draw on any energy source they could find.

“I’m done, what was the next step?” Stiles looked around at his work. It had taken him about an hour, and he’d slipped a few times, but he’d done it. He looked completely drained. Derek moved to pass into the ring of trees and help Stiles stand. “Don’t, Derek, I’m fine.”

“He’s right. Like I said when we were going over the plan earlier: don’t pass into the ring of sigils until I say, you could break the spell.” Derek growled but Lydia ignored him, “Connect them all with the string then, to activate it, put a drop of your blood on the knot.” Stiles looked down at the ball of yarn Lydia had given him, shrugged, and tied the end around the first tree.

“Honestly, Derek, I’m fine. Quit growling at Lydia.” Derek hadn’t even realised he was still growling, he stopped and looked away. Stiles continued to wrap the yarn around each of the trees until they were all connected. He pressed one of his needle-sharp teeth into his finger, wincing, and let a single drop fall onto the knot at the start of the circle. The light blue wool stained a dark red that spread quickly. Stiles jumped back when the colour spread further, chasing along the yarn until the whole piece was dyed red. “Woah.” Stiles whistled lowly.

“Okay, I put the vial over there earlier, inside the cove in that tree.” Lydia pointed to the tree furthest from her. “Since it was important that you didn’t drop it.” Stiles walked over to it, grumbling about Lydia and her lack of trust in him, and reached inside, pulling out the vial of blood. Lydia had already mixed everything together so all Stiles had to do was drink it. “We’ve probably got about forty seconds before the moon reaches its peak and you need to drink the blood. Then Derek will go in and bite you. Everyone else, be prepared for anything. The book doesn’t state what happens afterwards.” In reality, the rest of The Pack didn’t have to be there but they had come just in case. Most of them had refused to not be there, anyway.

The seconds ticked by slowly, each one longer than the last. Derek shifted closer to the barrier, took a deep breath, and tried not to let anyone notice how worried he was. This could end horribly, it could ruin Stiles, it could hurt him, he could die or become a werewolf or… Any number of things could go wrong and that thought put Derek on edge in a way he hadn’t been even before the fight earlier in the week. Stiles’ eyes met his and that made everything worse. Those beautiful, singed honey eyes were the picture of calm. Faith, belief, that’s what Stiles was running on. 

“Twenty seconds,” Lydia looked up at the sky.

Derek hated this feeling – useless. So utterly _useless_. What if he messed up? What if it wasn’t the right time? What if they didn’t have the right amount of blood? What if…

“Fifteen seconds.”

What if Stiles stayed a vampire forever because of Derek? 

Stiles smiled at him, that perfect, small smile. Calm conflicted with the tension in his back, his shoulders, every muscle and every thought. Trying to wash it out and not succeeding but not failing.

“Ten, nine, eight…” Lydia continued to count down until the moon hit its peak. “Now.” 

Stiles downed the blood and moved to lie down in the centre of the ring he’d created. Once there, Lydia nodded at Derek. Ducking under the dark yarn, he made his way over to Stiles, trying to portray an indifference he did not feel. He knelt down by Stiles’ left hip and leaned forward, keeping himself up with a hand by Stiles’ other shoulder. “Ready?” he asked, mouth full of sharp teeth.

“Ready.”

Derek pushed Stiles’ shirt sleeve off his shoulder and stretched his jaw. Fitting his teeth around the pristine skin, he bit down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, I hope everyone is safe and doing well. As always, thank you for reading and, if you have done so, leaving a comment and kudos.  
> I am incredibly proud of a friend of mine who has recently published her first book. Go check out [The Ember by Phoebe M.J. Edwards](https://www.amazon.com/dp/B087627V4B/ref=sr_1_1?dchild=1&keywords=the+ember+by+phoebe+mj+edwards&qid=1586979481&s=digital-text&sr=1-1-catcorr) on amazon!


	18. Losing You.

Everything was still. The birds in the tree, the leaves, the squirrels, even the wind. All sound had been drawn out from around the two of them. Derek watched himself. He watched as he bit Stiles’ shoulder, as Stiles’ whole body jolted, as The Pack took a collective breath, as the yarn went up in flames. Then time stopped. Nothing grounding him. Just sudden  _ emptiness _ . 

Air became an unknown in his lungs, blood tugged at his lips, stained his teeth, but refused to flood his mouth. He could taste it despite seemingly watching from a distance. Stiles’ blood, blood that had been borrowed from animals but was still  unequivocally  _ his _ .

And then the wind rushed in around him and he was back in his own body, watching from his own eyes. He pulled away from Stiles. Looked down at him. Studied him. Watched for any changes bar the fast healing of his shoulder. Lydia was next to him but he couldn’t tell when she had gotten there. “Nothing’s changed.” The words sounded like his voice but he couldn’t remember opening his mouth. They felt like lead in his ears, tasted like the blood on his tongue. It hadn’t worked. _It had_ _not worked!_

“Just wait, Derek. Maybe it needs a little time. Remember, we don’t know what’s supposed to happen after all of this, we just have to wait.” Lydia said, she placed a firm hand on his shoulder and nodded at him. “It will be okay.” Hearing her words helped Derek ground himself and regain control of his body. He moved to take Stiles’ necklace off. 

“What are you doing? Is he okay?” Isaac asked. The rest of The Pack crowded in around Stiles.

“Batman?” Erica shook his shoulder, Boyd coming up behind her. Everyone began expressing concerns but Derek didn’t care at that moment. He didn’t care about anything but the too-still figure, lying in the bright light of the moon. All he cared about was Stiles. No one, nothing, could distract him from the task at hand: trying to hear Stiles’ heartbeat. A sound he had missed, a sound he hadn’t realised he craved until that moment. He pulled the necklace away from Stiles’ neck, tucking it into his pocket. Barely registered the silence of The Pack until Erica said, “I can’t hear it.”

“Me neither.” Derek wasn’t sure who said that. It didn’t matter. It took all his self-control not to scream right then. Not to yell and break something – someone.

“Deaton told us that the concoction will break the vampire component down. Maybe he’s still a vampire, but he shouldn’t be for long.” Lydia stated, voice steady.

“And what if that’s not it, what if this has killed him?” Isaac sounded panicked. Danny pulled him away telling him that it would be okay, and to try to avoid freaking out Derek, or any of the others. Comforting him in the way Derek wanted to do with Stiles. Maybe he never could now.

Derek looked up at Lydia. Her shoulders sagged but she said, “Derek, no. He’s going to be fine, give him time.” Derek sighed but agreed, “Let’s get him home, then we’ll call The Sheriff. Explain what’s going on, keep him updated.” 

**~~~~~**

After Lydia called Noah, he came home to check on Stiles. He asked questions and Lydia responded as best she could. Derek stayed close to Stiles’ side, not caring that everyone was there.

Noah watched Derek for a moment after being reassured on Stiles’ condition, before saying, “Alright, it’s late, I think it best that everyone goes home and goes to bed. You can check up on Stiles tomorrow.” He ushered everyone to the door, leaving Derek standing next to Stiles’ bed.

Once he had managed to get them all to leave, he came back. Sidled up to Derek, placed a hand on his shoulder, “He’s going to be okay, Derek.” Derek looked over at him, he could feel his facade dissolving. Noah had been so kind to him ever since the day Stiles had told him about him being a vampire. Yes, he always put Stiles first, therefore was sometimes harsh or strict on Derek. But he had shown a kindness that Derek had missed. That reflected Derek’s own father’s so strongly that it almost hurt.

The idea of breaking down in front of Noah scared Derek. He hadn’t cried in so long. But Stiles…

“It’s okay.” Derek hadn’t realised that Noah was hugging him until then. “It will all be okay.” 

**~~~~~**

Derek pulled Stiles’ desk chair over to the side of his bed and sat down, grabbing Stiles’ hand tightly. “Shit, Stiles.” After their hug and many words of comfort, Noah had left. It felt so  _ wrong;  _ it should be the other way around. Noah was Stiles’ father. Derek was Stiles’ alpha… except they were so much more than that now – maybe they had been for a while. And Derek had been strong for so long so maybe, as Noah had told him, it was okay. Maybe breaking and crying (even if it was only a couple of tears) wasn’t a bad thing. 

Noah had told him to get some sleep before he had left. Derek had made no promise. He knew he couldn’t keep it and he couldn’t bear to break any more promises. Because, despite what everyone kept saying, he had. Stiles had trusted him, and, in acknowledging that trust, he had made a promise to keep Stiles safe. Stiles had trusted him with  _ everything  _ and all he had asked for in return – albeit silently – was a promise to be kept safe and Derek had  _ failed. _

He had failed at that one simple task. He had broken that trust. And now he was sitting over Stiles’ limp body. “I am so sorry.” What if Stiles wasn’t okay? Lydia had said he would be, but he was lying in bed, not moving, no heartbeat, no signs of life and no way to tell if that was because it hadn’t worked or if it was because he was dead. Regardless of what Derek tried to convince himself of, his thoughts kept going back to “ _ he’s dead and it’s your fault”.  _ Another promise: broken.

They should’ve tried harder to convince Scott to help. They should’ve found another true alpha. Derek should’ve refused to bite Stiles. He should’ve known that this would’ve happened. Why wasn’t Noah mad at him? After all, Noah had told him to keep Stiles safe, and Derek had said he would. But he hadn’t. 

He shouldn't have listened to Lydia. He should’ve put up more of a fight, gotten them to find more evidence that it’d work with just a good alpha. Not that he was a good alpha. No  _ good _ alpha would not realise that one of their betas (human or otherwise) had been turned into a vampire. No  _ good  _ alpha would be okay with putting said beta into harm's way without being one hundred percent sure that it would be for the best.

Stiles  _ dead _ was not for the best. He was not a good alpha, he was not a true alpha, maybe he didn’t even have pure intentions like they had all thought. Maybe this had all been for purely selfish reasons like it had been with Paige. He had messed up, he had been afraid of losing her and it ended in her death. History was repeating itself and Derek was powerless to stop it. He was the cause of it. It was all his fault. Sat there, watching the person he cared so deeply about die,  _ again _ . Or maybe he was already dead.

He hadn’t learned!

“Please, be okay. Please, I can’t lose you, Sti.” It was all too quiet, and too loud, and too much. His head was pounding. How could everyone be so sure? How could everyone be so okay with Stiles lying so lifelessly? Why was everyone so calm? Stiles could be  _ dead!  _ And if not dead, then dying. The world could be continuing on without knowing that its brightest light had just faded into oblivion. 

People would be getting up, going to work or school or out to have fun. Going to sleep or going out clubbing, dancing with their friends. Everyone was getting on with their lives, while Stiles was… In front of him. This was ridiculous. Why couldn’t he just allow himself to think that Stiles was okay? Why couldn’t he just believe Lydia like everyone else?

He stood up to pace the room, pulling at his hair. Stiles would be okay, he had to be. Lydia had to be right. This had to have worked. Why wouldn’t it have? Because one of the ingredients was a poison. Because they hadn’t used a true alpha. Because Derek was selfish. Because...

_ Fuck.  _

“I can’t lose him, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, sorry for leaving you all on a cliff hanger. I'll probably be posting chapters more often now! Well, at least for the next few weeks, but hopefully for longer.
> 
> I hope you are all safe and doing okay. Thank you for reading! As always, comments and kudos are appreciated. I love reading your comments, they're always so lovely, thank you.


	19. Alone Without You.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Blood and gore, short anxiety attack

*********

Stiles blinked against the bright lights and sat up in bed. Had the ritual worked? Nothing felt different. He patted himself down; everything was still intact, that was a good start. Then he focused on his teeth and, after a moment of trying, reached a hand up to feel for any change. None. Completely human. No craving for blood. No extra strong sense of smell or hearing abilities. It had worked. 

It had _worked!_

Pulling himself out of bed, he got changed quickly and rushed out of his room to find his dad, The Pack, _anyone_. “Dad?” 

Noah walked out of his own room, “Stiles, you’re awake?” 

“Yeah, it worked!” Noah’s face lit up and he moved to hug Stiles. Stiles still felt a little drowsy, the effects of the ritual still wearing off and he had to readjust to his human body. It was causing him to feel almost delayed. His limbs slightly too heavy, his mind struggling to catch up with him through a dense fog. He hugged his dad back anyway, glad that he was there. In need of a solid presence to ground him.

“I’m so glad. God, son, you had me worried for a moment there. We thought you weren’t going to wake up.”

“We?” he meant The Pack, but where were they?

“Yes, _we_. Go on downstairs.” Stiles did as told, Noah followed him down. When Stiles reached the bottom step, the atmosphere shifted and he turned around, confused. Noah was no longer there. 

“Dad?” no response. He must have forgotten something. But that didn’t explain why everything felt _wrong_ all of a sudden. 

“Stiles, in here!” someone called. He recognized the voice but couldn’t picture the face that went with it. So he went into the living room where the sound had emanated from, and stopped dead in his tracks. 

“Scott, what the hell are you doing here?” Scott McCall was lounging on the couch, limbs spread wide, perfectly at ease. The T.V. was on and _Star Wars_ was playing. Despite Stiles’ best efforts, he had never succeeded in getting Scott to watch any of the _Star Wars_ movies _,_ why was he watching it now? 

“I’m here to see how the ritual went without me. I want to see if you’re no longer a monster.” Scott’s smile was sickeningly sweet, so reminiscent of Evalyn’s.

“You think that after everything, you can just come in here, smile at me and we can be friends again?”

“Well, I mean, your dad was fine with it. And you’re not a blood-sucking monster anymore. So I don’t see why not.” Scott frowned and stood up, hands raised in defense as he moved towards Stiles.

“No, no, no, I believe your exact words were: ‘monster, vampire or otherwise’. So what the _hell_ are you doing here?” Something felt wrong… something felt very wrong. He shouldn’t be yelling at Scott. Why was he yelling at his best friend? “No, you are not my friend.” 

“But I am, we’ve been friends since kindergarten, why would we have stopped?”

“Because of everything you said… everything you did!” What had Scott done? What had he said? 

“But, Stiles, I didn’t _do_ anything. Don’t you remember?” What was he supposed to be remembering? What was going on?

Scott, his _best friend_ was here to check up on him, and he was yelling. But Scott deserved worse than that, right?

“I- I need to get out of here, I need a breath of fresh air.”

“I think that’s a good idea, Stiles. When you’re feeling better we’ll talk again, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, sure.” Stiles waved his hand dismissively as he turned and walked away.

He stumbled into the hall, shoulder hitting the wall as he struggled to draw in breaths. What was going on? Why was Scott here, and why did he feel like he shouldn’t be mad at him? Why did he feel like he _should_ be mad at him? He couldn’t breathe, he needed Derek or… or his dad! Would they know what to do? Stiles didn’t. He just needed someone. _Anyone_ . The air was too far away, just brushing his fingertips, mocking him, laughing at him. Every breath was weaker, shallower than the last, it hurt. It _hurt_. He needed Derek. But Derek wasn’t there, he wouldn’t come no matter how many times Stiles gasped his name. No one was coming. No one was…

Humming burst through his suffocating bubble. His mother’s favourite song. His mother’s voice, her beautiful sound. The radio. The dishes. The whirring of the oven fan. Claudia’s singing drowned out the radio as she belted the chorus to her song. _Her song._ And suddenly Stiles could breathe again because his mother was _there._ She was in the kitchen, _alive._ And he needed her. He needed her more than he’d ever needed anyone. Needed her to hug him. Needed her to tell him everything was going to be okay. She would know what’s going on, she always did.

He pulled himself along the hallway, into the kitchen and just stood there. Watching. It was a long moment before she turned around. And when she did Stiles couldn’t help the smile that split across his face. She was just as gorgeous as ever. Hair tied back into a dark-mahogany bun, as it always was when she was cooking, yellow apron over dark blue jeans, and a black and white flannel shirt. Her dusky chocolate-honeycomb eyes glistened in the startlingly bright kitchen light. And… she was crying. It took Stiles a moment to realise that, but she had tears chasing down her face, dripping onto her white apron, marring it, tainting it. Had it been white earlier? 

His smile fell away, “Mom, are you okay?” That was not the first thing he had wanted to say, but it was the most important. 

“Of course, I am, sweetheart. I get to see you, and look at you all grown up. So handsome, just like your father.” Stiles smiled and ducked into her waiting arms.

“I’ve missed you so much, Mom. So fucking much.” 

Claudia gasped. “Stiles, I hope your father hasn’t been teaching you those words.” She pulled back, keeping her hands on his shoulders. The tears still hadn’t stopped but they hadn’t dampened Stiles’ shoulder.

“No, it wasn’t him,” he lied. 

“Good.” She grinned, and it was so warm, so contrasting to Scott’s earlier smile (had he seen Scott earlier?), that Stiles felt _safe._ Safe in a way that he hadn’t felt in so long. _Too_ long. His heart stung with the realisation: he had missed this feeling. He had missed _this_ . This calmness. The look of genuine love and affection in her eyes. The care and tenderness in her touch. And he had missed her. Her love for Noah and the way they spoke so _freely_ with one another, her love for listening to Stiles rant and ramble, her love for cooking, listening to music, singing, and dancing like there was no tomorrow. Her love for life.

“Now, what’s this I hear about you murdering innocent people?” Claudia’s grip grew stronger. The tears stopped dripping down her cheeks, instead they pooled in her eyes, dark reds and blacks swirling together. Mixing and combining, thickening... Blood. Blood spilled over her cheeks, cascading down, over her face. Pouring from her nose, her mouth, her ears. 

“I- Mom?”

“Why would you, Stiles? How could you?” Her words came out thick and gurgling, blood bubbling and popping. Splattering on the walls, the floor, the ceiling. Devouring the sound of the radio. Deafening Stiles.

“I’m so-sorry. Please, I am sorry!” Stiles cried out when her grip tightened and he heard, through everything, the crunching of bones. Then it slackened.

“This is your fault.” And she crumpled, leaving behind a dark blue apron, white and yellow flannel shirt, and a pair of black jeans.

*********

Stiles was outside, he had been running and now he was outside. And so was the old swing set from his childhood years. As he approached it he felt eyes on him. They burned into him, screaming for attention but he couldn’t tell where their owner was. 

“Push me?” A lilting voice asked.

“Of course.” He said, smiling at the girl. Had she been there in the seconds before?

“Why were you running earlier?” 

“I was… erm. Huh, I can’t remember.” He gave the girl a push.

“That’s alright, sometimes I forget things, too.” She chuckled and swung her legs playfully as she came back down to earth. “Like the time that Scott and I forgot that it was parent-teacher conference night. That was the same day that we skipped school. My dad wasn’t very happy.” Stiles laughed. He stayed and pushed her for a long time before anything else came to mind.

“I know you.” 

“Obviously, we’re friends.”

“So why can’t I remember your name?”

“Like I said, I forget things too. It’s alright.” The girl flicked her hair off her shoulder, holding the swing with her free hand. “It’ll come to you.” They talked for a while, so long that day became night. The porch light flickered to life, the moon rose high.

“Allison.”

“See I told you it would come back.” She swung down again. 

“Why are you here, Alli?”

“Because I missed you, silly. You and Scott and Isaac and Derek, everyone!” She laughed again, and the sound called back to them both.

“Yeah, but why _here_?”

“Because everyone is here, Stiles. And because how could I not be? You are, after all, the reason I died.” Stiles stopped pushing her.

“No, I’m not. That wasn’t my fault.” If she was dead, then why was she here? Should he be more concerned than he was? No, why should he be, she was here, alive and happy and laughing. So everything was alright.

“I’m only teasing you.” That didn’t seem right, Allison wouldn’t make a joke like that. But what did Stiles know?

“Of course, you are.” He gave her another shove and she went high.

“But I am dead.” Despite being so far away, Stiles could hear her perfectly, as if she were whispering in his ear. The lights flickered and she was gone. The empty swing hit Stiles in the face, he blinked, rubbed a hand over the bruise that he knew would be there tomorrow, and then she was back. This time she was on the floor, only a few meters away, Isaac in her arms. Stiles watched as Scott threw the ninjato that he had used to stab Isaac, to the ground. It clattered and sunk into the floor.

“Stiles, help me.” She called over to him but his feet were stuck. He was sinking, too.

“I can’t!” 

“Yes, you can, please.” She sobbed, head bent over Isaac’s bleeding body. And Scott laughed. The lights flickered again. Everyone was gone.

“Allison?” He called out, trying to get back to her, his feet now free. The ninjato now back on the surface of the ground. 

“Stiles?” Derek’s voice rang out.

“Derek?”


	20. Broken Truths.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: blood and harsh words

“Stiles?”

“Derek?” Relief flooded Stiles but he couldn’t remember why. There had been a reason he wanted Derek, but what had it been? _Allison, Isaac, Scott._ He needed to find them. “Derek, help me, Isaac’s in trouble!” But as soon as he’d said the words he knew that they weren’t true. Derek didn’t even flinch though, as if he hadn’t heard Stiles.

“Stiles, we need to talk.” Stiles stepped closer to Derek but Derek stepped back. “Don’t,” he sneered. 

“What?” Stiles’ eyebrows drew together. Derek was his alpha, his friend… so much more. Ever since he had become that to Stiles he hadn’t acted like this towards him.

“Like I said, we need to talk.”  
  
“About what?”

“You’re human now; you’re weak. You’re no longer a good asset to my Pack. We don’t need you, _I_ don’t need you.” Then he turned his back and began to walk away, past Stiles’ house, nails dragging along the front of his jeep. All too relaxed, all too calm. The sound of paint curling under claws didn’t echo, it didn’t even make it to Stiles’ ears.

“No!” Derek kept going. “You don’t get to do this!” Stiles’ voice sounded raw, even to his own ears.

“Oh, but I already have.” Stiles’ hand fell onto Derek’s shoulder, pulling him back with a sudden burst of strength. He shook off the uncertain feeling that came with it. And the question of how he’d gotten so close to Derek so quickly.

“No, you haven’t. You said you would wait for me. You kissed me, you said it meant whatever I wanted, and now I know what I want.” There was a brief flicker of recognition in Derek’s eyes, hope and love and caring compassion. A gentleness that Stiles held close, would fight for. Then it was gone. Buried deep.

“You do?” Derek loomed closer.

“I did, now I’m not so sure.” Stiles stepped back.

“Why?”

“Because you’re scaring me.”

“Good, as I should.”

“But--”

“No! Stiles, don’t you get it? I. Don’t. Want. You.” This wasn’t right. This couldn’t be right. “Scott was right; you are a monster. Or, you were, now you’re just pathetic. Why would I want to be with you? I could have _anyone_ , why would I pick you?” He spat the last word like it was a slur. “You’re no-one to me. _Nothing._ Weak. Powerless. Pathetic. Worthless. Selfish. Idiotic. Lost and alone in a world you were never invited to.” With every word, he stepped closer until Stiles stumbled and fell. Cowering on the ground, arms over his head, palms up in defence.

Derek’s voice blended with Noah’s, Mellisa’s, Scott’s, Isaac’s, Jackson’s. The whole Pack was there, invisible to Stiles, but there nevertheless. Shouting, yelling, screaming all of his flaws. Picking apart every insecurity. Every fault. Every negative thought he’d ever had. 

Surrounded by a viscous, shadowy, all-encompassing dark. He shut his eyes, almost unsure if he had for a split second, and when he opened them the dark had faded, replaced with mirrors. Every one he looked in was broken, reflecting him but _wrong._ Green eyes – Derek’s eyes. Long, wavy hair – Allison. Isaac’s scarf, Scott’s jaw, Lydia’s makeup, Jackson’s lacrosse gear, Liam’s smile. 

Old wounds.

New wounds.

_Blood._

And then they were gone; every version of him was gone.

The mirrors melted, dripping and running down his bedroom walls. Over his bed, his desk, his wardrobe. Dragging itself into a pile in the middle of his floor and building up, up, up. Colour spread over the mound like a virus. Leaving, in its wake, Stiles. A perfect imitation of every detail, every mole and hair, every feature and every scar. The other Stiles rolled its shoulders, cracked its neck, looked around, eyes skimming over the real Stiles as if he wasn’t even there, before moving to sit at his desk. 

It opened Stiles’ laptop and began typing. Stiles walked over, unaware of his legs even moving, to hover behind his mirror self. He read what it typed, “What gets bigger the more you take away? What gets wetter the more it dries? When is a door not a door? Everyone has it, but no one can lose it. What is it?” Stiles answered everyone out loud, unconsciously: “A hole. A towel. When it’s ajar. A shadow.”

It stood and turned to face Stiles. “You remembered.” Its eyes darkened, skin paled. “How have you been, Stiles?”

“What do you want?” Its features flickered, altering between Stiles and many of the other monsters The Pack had fought.

“I want to know why. Why did you want to get rid of me?” It split, black slime and dark blood pulling and dripping between it and a third ‘Stiles’. For a moment, the whole room was solely filled with the sounds of flesh ripping and shredding, of fluid splattering on the floor, of clothes tearing. And then they spoke as one, “Why did you want to get rid of us?” The nogitsune, inhabiting Stiles’ body, and Stiles’ vampire stood tall and mocking. “Why wouldn’t you want to be strong? Why wouldn’t you want to be us?” Derek’s words rolled around his head becoming one with their words; _his_ words.

“I-I--”

“You what, Stiles? You know you were better as us. Everyone preferred it.”

“Scott didn’t.” Stiles’ voice came out as little more than a puff of air. 

They laughed at him. They sang his words, close to his ear, far away, dancing around. “Scott doesn’t care about you. He’s never cared about you. At least with us, you have a Pack. At least with us, you have _Derek_!”

“But I also have no control.” Stiles pushed himself away from the corner they had backed him into. “I have no control!”

“We can teach you control.”

“I don’t want to learn, I don’t want any of this.” He threw his arms wide.

“So you want to be weak, you want to be powerless, you want to lose your mate?” They knew? How did they know?

“I won’t lose him.”

“He seems to think otherwise.” Stiles’ mirror self (the one possessed by the nogitsune) flickered, glitched and became Derek, but it wasn’t Derek who spoke, “I don’t want you.” The sound came from Stiles’ vampire self. Derek’s mouth stayed firmly closed, until: “And who would blame him?” It was Stiles’ voice he spoke in. 

The way that they had spoken from each other's mouths had Stiles laughing. It seemed so ridiculous. Like a ventriloquist act gone wrong. That was the wrong move. “Fine, if Derek can’t persuade you then maybe she can.” Derek’s doppelganger shifted, shrank, his features became more delicate, his hair grew and its dark colour dissolved to a light, fading lilac that tangled in the wound on her neck.

“Remember me?” She asked, voice quiet, soft and coming from her own mouth, eyes wide.

“Of course, I do.” She couldn’t have been much older than Stiles was. He hadn’t seen her at school before, never heard anything about her death in the news, either. “I’m so sorry.”

“My death means nothing now.” She was so pale, her pearlescent green eyes dull, lifeless. As they had been after Stiles had drained her of her blood.

“You were already dying, they were killing you slowly. Keeping you as their _pet_.”

“You killed me, though. And now that means nothing. They made you so much more than you are, and now you’re just… human.”

“No, _he_ killed you.” Stiles pointed at the vampire, who hissed at him.

“I did nothing,” It said, the girl's mouth moved soundlessly alongside. “I just acted on our instincts, you didn’t stop me."

“Stop it!” Stiles snapped.

“No, Stiles, you killed me. Take responsibility for that.” That was it. He’d had enough.

“I don’t have to listen to this. I am sorry, there is no excuse for what I did but I couldn’t stop myself. I had no control, now I do. You would be glad, you said that you understood. I barely heard you through everything. But I did. I did hear you. You said that this wasn’t my fault.”

“I didn’t.”

“You did! I will still never forgive myself, but I had no choice. I struggle to remember it, I was barely conscious. But I _do_ remember. You will not be forgotten. I am _sorry_.”

She disappeared. Just like that: gone. And Stiles was left facing only his vampire self. “Neither you nor the nogitsune were ever _me_. You may have inhabited my body but you did not replace me. And not having you will not mean I lose people. Not having you will mean I get to grow old with them.”

“You will never get rid of me, Stiles. I will always be there, in the back of your mind. Watching you, controlling you.” The power Stiles had felt after getting rid of the other half began to dwindle. “You won’t ever be strong or fast or quick at healing, and I’ll get to watch as you fall behind everyone else. I’ll get to watch as you fall to pieces and then you’ll come crawling back to me. You’ll beg to be me again. You’ll be desperate to be everything you’re not. And when you do, that’s when I’ll leave. That’s when I’ll be gone. Because watching you ruin yourself will be enough.” And then it stepped back into the darkness behind it.

Stiles was left standing alone in his room, helpless to the hatred that devoured him from the inside out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, I hope you enjoyed this chapter and are all safe! Have a good day.


	21. Breathtaking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Panic attack

Stiles shot up, air thick and foreign in his lungs. He clawed at his head as he screamed, dragging his legs up and kicking out. Deaf to Derek’s voice, blind to his touch as he babbled incoherently. Everything flooding in: his mother, Scott, Allison, his dad, Derek, the girl, himself. Monster, monster, monster,  _ monster.  _

Nightmares.

Dreams.

Truths. 

It was all real. All strong and present right at the front of his mind. Derek hated him. Scott was back. His mom was bleeding to death. Allison was watching Isaac die her death. They blended together and split apart, the details muddling and twining, breaking into memories and realities of their own. Pounding on his skull and choking him. Twisting his gut. Hurting…

Everything.

And then feeling surged through him, everything was too much and not enough. And no words could pass through the thick haze of desperation and nonsense. Derek’s hands felt like fire and his once-calming voice sounded feeble and annoying but Stiles couldn’t find it in him to tell him so. His lungs begged him to breathe. His mind span. His thoughts pushed at his skin. Trying to break free. 

He needed  _ out _ . Needed Derek off. Needed silence and music and…  _ air. _

His hands were pulled away from his head, he fought the fingers around his wrists until they let go. Yanking his hands back, he pushed at his shirt, his chest. Hands shaking. Sounds echoing. The bang of a door. The voice of his dad. 

The voice of his mom.

Scott.

The girl.

Himself.

Hands. Hands on him, again! Then a shout and they were gone. Had he shouted? Why had he shouted? 

His stomach constricted. A voice sounded again and then there was a bowl and he was vomiting.

*********

This time when Stiles woke up, he wasn’t on his bed. He wasn’t even in his room. Pushing himself up, he looked around his living room. “Stiles, you’re awake?” Derek said as he walked in, handed Stiles a glass of water and then sat down next to him. Stiles just nodded mutely, hands shaking as he lifted the glass to his lips, nearly dropping it several times. “Let me help you.” Stiles shook his head and tried again.

“Ca-can you just… leave me alone for a few minutes?” his voice came out empty of emotion, Derek frowned but nodded and left.

Stiles ran a hand over his face. Was he actually awake? Everything had felt so real before...

Fingers. He needed to count his fingers. 

One, two, three, four, five. He put the glass down on the coffee table. Six, seven, eight, nine, ten. Good. And he could remember the whole thing. When he was asleep he couldn’t remember what had happened in the room before. So that was probably also a good sign. It was odd; remembering that he couldn’t remember. But it meant that this was real.

After calming himself down a little more, he stood up on shaking legs and headed towards the kitchen, suddenly ravenous. Noah and Derek were stood talking quietly when he walked in. “Food,” was all he said as he reached past his dad to open the cupboard and pulled out the half-empty bag of pasta, before grabbing a pan from another cupboard. When pasta spilled over the counter, he sighed. 

Silently, Derek took the things from Stiles’ hands and measured out enough pasta for one. Stiles didn’t protest this time. As they waited for the water to boil, Stiles looked around the kitchen, allowing the familiarity of the place to soothe him.

“Stiles?” Derek asked, tentatively. Stiles tensed, reminded himself that it had just been a dream, that Derek had not really said those things.

“How long was I out for?” 

“Thirty-six hours in total, you kept muttering but none of it made sense. What were you dreaming about?”

“It wasn’t a dream. It felt so… real. But it was terrifying.” He wiped furiously at his face.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not yet, I can’t.” 

Derek nodded in understanding. “The Pack wants me to call them when you wake up. You okay with them coming over?”

“Yeah, I am, so long as they don’t all come over at the same time.” Derek smiled, poured the water into the pan and then left the room.

“Son, how are you feeling?”

“Not great; hungry, tired, sick. It was horrible, dad.” He fell into his dad’s offered arms, glad for the comfort.

“He didn’t leave your side. He barely even slept. You know, he was really worried about you. We all were.” Noah didn’t need to tell Stiles who he was talking about, they both knew.

*********

The Pack all came by, alone or with their respective partners, to express their joy at seeing Stiles up and walking around as a human. Lydia, being the person she was, told him that she had organised a party for the next night. And despite how horrible he felt, he couldn’t help but be excited.

*********

He spent the rest of the day curled up next to Derek after he’d spent an hour alone reminding himself that it was okay, everything would be okay. They barely spoke but, for once, Stiles didn’t feel the need to.

Derek stayed over that night, at Stiles’ request, and held him close when the images of blood and death and hate flooded in behind closed eyes.

*********

The next day, Lydia showed up on his doorstep with a bright smile. “Hey, Stiles! How’re you feeling today?”

“A lot better than yesterday.”   
  
“I was hoping you would say that, I’ve bought something over for you to wear tonight.” She followed Stiles into the living room as she talked, waving at Derek when she spotted him on the couch. “And I’ve got something for you, too, Derek. I assumed you stayed over here again.” Derek caught the bag she chucked at him and grunted his thanks before heading upstairs to change.

“Tell me that what you got me isn’t as revealing as I think it might be.” Stiles pleaded.

“Okay. Stiles, what I got you is not as revealing as you might think.” Lydia’s eyes danced and her lips twitched upwards.

“Why does that not fill me with much hope?” 

“Because you have trust issues. Now take this and go change, I need to see if there’s any alterations or accessories that I will need to buy you before tonight.”

Stiles threw his head back and groaned, drawing out Lydia’s name for longer than necessary before saying, “I thought this was just gonna be The Pack, going out and having fun.”

“It is.”

“So, why all the clothes?”

“Because why not? Now quit complaining and go get changed. Oh, and find your fake ID, we’re going to the club.”

“Ugh, fine.” Stiles took the clothes that were handed to him and went upstairs, wondering if his dad would be okay with the fact that they were going to a club.

He knocked on his bedroom door and waited for Derek’s answer before he went in. “Hi,” Stiles sputtered, pulling to a stop just inside his room. While what Lydia had given Derek didn’t vary too far from what he normally wore, it did seem to fit him differently. A pair of black skinny jeans, a short-sleeved, grey henley with the top two buttons undone, and his trademark leather jacket. It all accented him beautifully. 

The grey of his shirt contrasted his eyes and, for a moment, Stiles could’ve sworn that they sparkled. His hair (which had been a mess, thanks to Stiles playing with it whilst they read on the couch earlier) had been styled into a perfect quiff with some sort of product. Lydia must have given it to him as Stiles was sure that he had run out a while ago, and he hadn't bothered to get more since his hair sort of just did what it wanted now. But Derek had managed to get his to look like it was just naturally like that. And it was so  _ fluffy. _ It had been so earlier, too, but even with gel in it, it looked soft. In a sharp contrast, his stubble looked rough, but it delicately rounded out his hard features.

The smirk that he usually wore had been stolen by a blinding, Hollywood smile that was aimed at Stiles. The sight made Stiles’ heart melt and, now that he could no longer hide behind his necklace, he was sure Derek had noticed its change in tempo. Now he was certain that Derek’s eyes were sparkling under his often-angry eyebrows, bright like Christmas lights. 

“Uh, I need to, umm,” he gestured at the bag that was no longer in his hand. “Oh,” bending down, he picked it back up and looked at Derek again. “I need to get, you know, clothes... on.” 

Derek chuckled, “Stiles, you know you just said that all out loud, right?” Stiles' heart stopped for a second, “Oh, and yes, Lydia did give me the hair gel.”

“Well, fuck. Look, dude, I--” Stiles struggled to find an excuse, not wanting to make tonight awkward as this was supposed to be a celebration. Stiles wanted today to be good; having a nightmare and then waking up in a panicky mess was not how he had wanted his first day of being human to go and he definitely didn’t want his second day to be bad, too.

But Derek cut him off, “Stiles, you don’t have to apologise. Get changed, I’ll come back in a few minutes.” Stiles nodded, ducked his head, and stepped out of Derek’s way of the door.

*********

Lydia had given him a black, tight fit, button-up shirt and worn skinny jeans with a black leather belt. Nowhere near as bad as what he had imagined. He used the product that Derek had left to at least try to do something with his hair; it had been so much easier when it was shaved. 

He briefly wondered about going back to that, which led to him wondering what he would look like with waist-length hair… He shook his head, unbuttoned the top button of his shirt and went downstairs. 

“Ugh, Stiles, no. Come here.” Lydia took his hand and dragged him into better light, she fixed his hair and told him to tuck his shirt in. While he did, she unbuttoned another three buttons.

“Lydia…”

“What? You look good, trust me.” Although Stiles did trust Lydia’s fashion sense, he did up one of the buttons (leaving him with only three undone) and went to check his hair in the mirror, glad to see himself there. Wholly and completely  _ himself _ .

“She’s not wrong, you know?” Derek said, wrapping his arm around Stiles’ waist from behind and looking him over in the mirror. “You  _ do _ look good.” Stiles shifted his feet and looked away when Derek met his eyes.

Tonight was going to be interesting.

*********

Noah was leaving for work just as The Pack began arriving. He stopped to talk to Stiles first, “You guys are going out today, right?”

“Yeah,” Stiles replied.

“Okay, and do I want to know where and how you’re going to get in?”

“Probably not…”

Noah sighed, “Just, have fun, okay? Relax, but don’t do anything reckless.”

“You’re the best."

“You deserve a good night out, kid. But I don’t want to see you in the station tomorrow morning.”

“I know, I know.” Stiles patted his dad on the shoulder before heading into the living room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, I hope y'all are doing well. Please remember to leave comments and kudos, if you want to. And maybe check out some of my other (so far much shorter) Sterek stories.
> 
> I've made a public Instagram account, I don't know if I'll ever post but if you want to follow me then feel free to @_hidden._.wolf_
> 
> Have a great day!


	22. Crowded Fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: drunkenness/drunk people, and implied underage drinking.

The bouncer checked their IDs and let them into the already packed club. Not everyone had been able to come. Some of them wouldn’t be able to pass for twenty-one, and Derek was apprehensive about letting Liam, Mason and Corey come (as they were the youngest in The Pack). But promises to have a Pack Night as soon as possible were made so there wasn’t too much grumbling. 

Stiles saw the wolves flinch as they entered and asked, “Are you guys gonna be okay? You know, with your hearing and all.”

“We’ll be fine,” Jackson said as he and Ethan disappeared into the crowd.

“Something tells me that this is gonna be less of a party and more of a generic club night,” Stiles said.

“You’re probably right,” Lydia smirked as her eyes scanned the dance floor, landing on someone in the mass of bodies. “I’ll see you later.” Kissing Stiles’ cheek, she left, too.

Stiles looked around to see that everyone was already on the dance floor, except him and Derek. Derek shifted and took Stiles’ hand, guiding him towards the bar. Stiles went along, glad that Derek was there, keeping him close. “Can I get a cola and a glass of water?” Derek asked when they made it there.

The bartender frowned, looking Stiles over, with distaste then looking back at Derek with an eyebrow raised, “Is that all?” he leaned over the bar slightly, moving into Derek’s personal space.

“Yes, thanks.” Derek’s words came out sharper than before, a broken growl barely hidden.

“No alcohol?”

“I don’t drink.”

“And what about for your…” The bartender gestured vaguely at Stiles, clearly looking for some kind of confirmation that they weren’t together.

Derek put his arm around Stiles’ waist, and Stiles leaned into it, “He’s not a big drinker either.” 

“Alright then,” the guy huffed and left to get Derek’s order for him.

“You know, I can order and speak for myself, right?” Stiles asked. While he wasn’t upset at Derek – he was right after all; he wasn’t up for drinking tonight, after everything he just wanted complete control of himself – he wanted Derek to know he didn’t have to speak for him.

“I know, but that guy rubs me the wrong way.” Stiles hid his smile in Derek’s shoulder just as the bartender came back with their drinks. Derek paid and went to drink when he noticed the number on the napkin under his glass. “For fuck’s sake.” He muttered, shredding the number with his claws and leaving it in a pile.

“Put those away.” Stiles sighed, grabbing Derek’s hands and hiding his fingers, glancing around to see if anyone had noticed. The crowd were all too busy with themselves to be paying attention to two guys who appeared to only be drinking at the bar. Derek was safe. 

“Sorry, it just bugs me. I was obviously  _ not _ interested.” 

“How often does this happen?”   
  
“I don’t really go out to the club much, but when I do it usually happens a couple of times.” Stiles felt a jolt of fire run through him, “I’ve never used the numbers, though. I don’t really do one night stands, I’m not interested in people who only want to have sex with me.” He pulled a hand free from Stiles’ grip to take a sip of water, swallowing hard. 

Stiles understood where Derek was coming from. He was kind of glad about it, too. But it just made him wonder why Derek wanted him, if he still did. Derek could have literally anyone, so why him?

“Anyway, how are you feeling?” Derek asked, moving away from Stiles to sit at one of the bar stools. “When you woke up I was so glad to hear your heart beat so strongly but then… well, you know.”

Stiles hopped up on the barstool next to Derek before answering with a wince at the all-too-fresh memory of yesterday. “Yeah, I do know, unfortunately. But I’m feeling better. Actually, I’m feeling a lot better. I love being able to eat normal food and  _ only _ normal food, again. Which reminds me, I need to get rid of that blood from under my bed. I also love not having to worry about out-living everyone, or losing control. I feel like myself. Or, well, I’m beginning to.” Derek’s beautifully bright smile spread across his face again and it sent a warm buzz through Stiles.

“Your dad has already dealt with the blood, don’t worry about it.” Stiles thanked him, picked up his glass, and Derek went on, “I’m glad you’re beginning to feel like yourself, Sti. You deserve to be happy, you know that?” Stiles ducked his head, took a sip from his paper straw, tried to hide the slight blush that had crawled across his cheeks. Derek used a gentle finger to lift Stiles' face until their eyes met again. “I mean it, Stiles.” He leaned forward and brushed a kiss to Stiles’ forehead. “If I can help you in any way, let me know.” He spoke so close to Stiles’ ear that Stiles could feel the movement of his lips. All Stiles wanted to do was tell him that he  _ was  _ helping, just by being there. But they were interrupted by Isaac and Danny, who had come to check up on them.

*********

Isaac had managed to convince the two to join them on the dance floor, but they hadn’t stuck around for long as Danny wanted to get another drink. Or, at least, that’s what they claimed, but Danny’s wink in Stiles’ direction told him otherwise. He didn’t let himself think too much about it though. Derek seemed quite happy to dance with just Stiles; as soon as the other two had left, Derek pulled Stiles in closer. What Stiles was not expecting was for Derek to lean down and mutter in Stiles’ ear: “Some guy is watching you.” It was impossible  _ not _ to notice the anger that laced his tone.

“Nice,” Stiles smirked, but Derek’s grip tightened. “Dude, it was a joke, calm down. I’m not interested in hooking up with some rando.”

“I  _ am  _ calm.”

Stiles snorted, “Sure you are.” 

“Shut up, he’s heading this way.” 

“Thanks for letting me know. Don’t kill him, okay?” Derek growled at Stiles which just resulted in him laughing loudly. Ignoring the way it reminded him of his nightmare; he did not want to let that ruin the night. Derek was just playing around. There was no need to worry about it.

A tap on his shoulder had Stiles turning in Derek’s arms. He leaned back against Derek, choosing to overlook the way Derek was acting in favour of grinning at the guy. Objectively, he was handsome: tall and tan with shoulder-length, wavy hair tied half-up in a bun, muscular but not bulky, and well dressed. His smile was just as bright, but nowhere near as wonderfully charming as Derek’s, and his eyes were slightly hazy. “Hi!” Stiles had to speak up to be heard over the music.

“Hello, I’m Daron. And what’s your name, beautiful?” The guy's words were slurred and hard to pick out through the clog of noise.

“Why do you want to know?”

“Huh, playing hard to get, I see.”

“More just playing not interested.” Stiles quirked his eyebrow and stared the guy down.

“Aw, come on, ditch this guy and come with me instead.” Daron reached forward, failed to grab Stiles’ hand and stumbled a little instead. 

Stiles could feel the rumble of Derek’s chest against his back, knew he was growling but this time it reminded him that he was  _ safe _ . It also meant that this guy needed to leave, and soon, otherwise he wouldn’t leave in one piece, and that wasn’t exactly how Stiles wanted this night to go.

“Yeah, no. I don’t think so. Now, please, leave me alone.” Stiles’ voice flattened, the edge to his words sharper than any blade.

“But, beautiful, you’ll have a much better night with me than with this loser.” He, once again, reached out for Stiles’ hands. Derek had abided by Stiles’ rule, he hadn’t intervened or killed Daron, but this was too far.

“He told you to leave him alone.” Without looking, Stiles knew that Derek had flashed his alpha-red eyes at the guy. “Don’t make him say it again.”

“And who are you?” The guy spat, too drunk to properly register what he was seeing.

“It doesn’t matter,  _ leave. _ ” And this time, Derek let his teeth drop and his eyes stay red – there was no mistaking or missing it, and it was evident that Daron hadn’t. His eyes widened and a wet patch bloomed across the front of his jeans. He bolted for the door, stumbling over his own feet and colliding with people on the way. Derek made to follow him but Stiles grabbed his hand, looking around, once again, to see if anyone had noticed. People seemed curious this time but not because of Derek. Good.

“Don’t, please. He’s not worth it.” When Derek still didn’t look convinced, Stiles said, “I just wanted to have some fun tonight, relax a little, you know? Come dance with me instead.”

“But--”

“Der, please.” Stiles tugged at his hand. Derek sighed, moved back towards Stiles and pulled him in close again.

“If I see him again then I’ll--”

“I know, just relax for now though.” Stiles leaned in closer, let himself unwind and  _ breathe _ .

As it turned out, Derek was great at dancing. Stiles felt a little inadequate in comparison. While nowhere near as bad as he used to be, he still had two left feet and was more limb than anything else. Derek had let go of him to dance but something seemed to change and he moved to grab Stiles again. Stiles slipped into Derek’s arms happily despite his confusion. “You smell wrong,” Derek said.

“What?”

“Are you not enjoying yourself?” Oh, Stiles had forgotten that Derek could tell what he was feeling using his sense of smell. It had been months since he’d been able to.

“No, I am.”

“Then what’s wrong?”

“Nothing, Derek, I’m fine.”

Derek cocked his head slightly, listening to Stiles’ heartbeat, “That’s a lie.” 

Stiles huffed, what did Derek want him to say? He  _ was  _ fine, he was having unburdened fun, for the first time in too long, “Honestly, I am fine.” Stiles rested his forehead on Derek’s shoulder. “I’m great actually.”

“Oh."

“Not a lie?” Stiles asked.

“Not a lie,” Derek confirmed.


	23. Better Than Nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, I hope you enjoy this chapter. If you do, feel free to leave a comment, and press that kudos button if you want to. Have a good day!

The two danced together, and this time, Stiles felt  _ right _ . They danced through slow songs and generic club music, every beat rang through to their core. And with every sway and dip and twist, every grip of Derek’s fingers, tug at his waist, tilt of his head, Stiles felt just a little bit more free. Just a little bit more himself. Like nothing had ever happened. The Pack were trying to get everything back to normal as quickly as possible, and Stiles was thankful for that, but right now, here, dancing in Derek’s arms, that’s where he felt the most normal.

By the time Derek pulled him close, stopped their dancing, Stiles was feeling on top of the world. Empty of all thought of Scott, Kira, the dream, even of Daron. Weightless and airy.  _ Happy _ .

And rather sweaty.

“Do you want to go home?” Derek murmured, breath hot against Stiles’ ear. As much as Stiles’ would love to stay, dance with Derek forever, he also did want to leave before he got too tired.

“Yeah, sure, when we get out I’ll text Lydia.”

Derek nodded, took Stiles’ hand and led him out the door.

**~~~~~**

Stiles fell onto his bed and smiled up at Derek, dark eyes bright with joy, “Thank you.”

Derek’s frowned, “What for?” 

“Tonight, it… it was amazing.” Derek sat on the edge of Stiles’ bed, his back to Stiles. Sometimes it was difficult; keeping so close to him after everything. Now was one of those times. All Derek wanted to do was hold him until he felt better. Until life was easier. Until the world stopped spinning. “And thank you for sticking by me through all of this, including when I was passed out.” Like Derek would leave Stiles to go through this alone. The mere idea of doing such a thing made him feel sick.

“You scared me, Sti.” Derek rubbed at his face, “I- They all said that you would be okay, but seeing you so… so weak, so still, I just didn’t  _ know _ .” And sometimes it all felt like too  _ much _ . Sometimes the urge to tell Stiles every thought he’d had about him was too strong. And after seeing Stiles so carefree today, so content even after everything, the guilt that he’d felt seared his veins, crawled through them and scalded his heart. “I broke my promise,” just those four words let cold flood through him; relief at finally saying them, even if it was only a small start. It was better than nothing.

“Oh, Derek…” Stiles moved to wrap his arms around Derek, rest his chin on Derek’s shoulder. Derek shut his eyes, pushed away the nagging voice that told him going on was a bad idea, opened his eyes again.

“I was so scared, Stiles. I can’t lose you. And I kept blaming myself, if I lost you, if you died, it would’ve been my fault.” In that moment, he couldn’t bring himself to look at Stiles. Shame twined around him, keeping him still. Tightening its grip when he tried to defy it. 

“It would not have been your fault, Derek.” Stiles stood up, moved in front of Derek and crouched down. Derek turned away. “Look at me.” Still, he didn’t. “Derek,” Stiles cupped Derek’s face in his hands, wiping an unfaithful tear away with his thumb before guiding him until their eyes met. “It is not your fault, do you understand me?” There was a split second where Stiles' words hung in the air. The seriousness of the moment so solid in comparison to the light, joyous high they had both been riding when in the club.

The only response Derek could come up with was, “Stiles, I  _ cannot  _ lose you.” He fought for his voice, held onto it tightly when it tried to break, carefully slowed his breathing.

“You haven’t, I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.” Stiles leaned forward, pressed a kiss to Derek’s forehead, gripped his hand tightly. 

Derek let himself believe that it meant more than it did.

His broken promise wasn’t the only thing he had thought about while Stiles was out. Hearing those words, feeling Stiles’ reassurance and quiet strength despite everything had made him all the more sure of the conclusion he had come to while thinking. If he had lost Stiles, he wouldn’t have been able to cope. It was a lot of pressure to put on one person. But Stiles was more than just Derek’s anchor, it had taken a while for Derek to notice that. 

He needed to know, and now was as good a time as any to ask. Almost losing him had made Derek realise that he couldn’t just wait for things to happen, he had to try, had to take action himself, even if they’d talked like this before. But that fact just seemed to make everything harder, their past conversation seemed to haunt this room, pull on his words, make him cautious, “Stiles, do you know what it means to be someone's mate?” 

Stiles stood up, running his fingers through his hair as he did so, the tension of the moment melting away a little, only to be filled with the strong scent of curiosity, “Uh, yeah, I do. Sort of.”

“What do you know?”

“I know that they aren’t anything like how they are so often portrayed – mates are never created  _ for  _ each other, it’s a bond that’s forged between and by two or more people, slowly, over a long period of time. Their love runs deeper than most relationships, but being mates doesn’t necessarily mean that you have to be in a romantic relationship. It can be purely platonic… Oh, and the bond can be solidified in a few different ways, but once it has been, it’s nearly impossible to break.” Stiles let out a long breath. “I researched it a while ago but I think that’s everything.”

“Almost everything.”

“What’d I miss?” Stiles stopped pacing the room to sit down next to Derek.

“A mate bond is usually only forged between supernaturals, but occasionally, under certain circumstances, it can be between a supernatural and… a human.” Derek tilted his head away at the last word, hoping maybe Stiles wouldn’t hear it. 

“Yeah, I know.” Stiles sighed, an undertone of recognition in his voice, “When did you realise?” It didn’t surprise Derek that Stiles had worked it out, too.

“When you were out, I had a lot of time to think. Put pieces together.” Small things: instincts he hadn’t realised he had, knowing when Stiles wasn’t okay, and when he was in danger. When he growled at Lydia despite knowing that she was just trying to help. It was just things that seemed insignificant at the time, but now… 

“I don’t think the bond is fully formed yet. And it obviously hasn’t been solidified.” Stiles stated.

“Do you want to stop it?” Just saying the words out loud hurt, it made Derek feel childish, like he was in highschool again.

“What? No! No, that’s not why I said that.” Derek tilted his head back towards Stiles and Stiles’ heartbeat picked up, rang loudly in Derek’s ears, his own interrupting the moments it was quiet. “I just- before, we said ‘one day’ in the future because I wasn’t ready, but now… is it different?” Stiles’ hands found Derek’s, tightened around them. Derek let his thumb soothe over Stiles’ knuckles, hoping to calm him.

“Different how?” 

Stiles sat back slightly, preparing himself before saying, “It’s stupid, but I can’t stop thinking about it. In my dream – nightmare, whatever – you said some  _ things _ . Things like how you didn’t want to be with me, you didn’t want me in The Pack because I’m human, you called me nothing, no-one. And I know, it was just a dream, but I can’t help but think...” There was more to it than that but there was no point in pushing Stiles to tell him more than he was ready to talk about. And this wasn’t the right time, either.

“I would never think less of you, Stiles. Whatever I said in your head means nothing out here. I want to be with you. You’re so incredibly important to me. You’re strong, and smart and you make me feel comfortable in myself again. You are everything I want and more.” It felt odd; saying all of that out loud. But It was true.

Stiles’ eyes were bright, beautiful, clear, “Then I’m ready now.” Those words unlocked Derek’s lungs and let in a rush of air.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, very.”

Derek smiled, moved closer, “Can I kiss you?”

“Oh, now you ask, huh?” Stiles smirked. Derek pulled away, face warm.

“I- um…”

“Dude, I’m joking. Yes, you can kiss me.” This time, it was slow, careful, and nowhere near perfect but that was okay, they had time to practice.

Stiles pulled back laughing, ran gentle fingers over Derek’s stubble, kissed along the path they made. “So, I can officially call you my boyfriend now?”

“Yes, you can.”

“And what about ‘babe’ and all the other cheesy nicknames?”

“Does my answer to that really matter?”

“Nope.” Stiles beamed, “Derek Hale, my boyfriend.” He sighed, wistfully, “When are we gonna tell the others?”

“Whenever you like.” Derek held onto Stiles’ free hand, squeezed it tightly, glad that he could hear Stiles’ heartbeat, feel the heat of his skin. It all meant one thing: Stiles was alive. “We should take this slowly.” Though their mate bond was almost fully forged, Stiles was still only seventeen, and Derek had already dealt with a lot of rushed relationships. None of them had worked out. So, even if this was already very different from all his previous relationships, he couldn’t risk losing Stiles; didn’t want to dive headfirst without checking the water’s depth, first. 

“Of course, if that’s what you want. Can we tell my dad tomorrow though? I don’t want to keep secrets from him, anymore.”

“He already thinks we’re dating.” They  _ were  _ close before. How much would things change now? Bar the fact that he felt lighter because they had finally gotten everything out in the open, and proud that he could call Stiles  _ his _ boyfriend, he didn’t feel much different, did he? 

“Oh god, he’s going to be so annoying about it, isn’t he?” 

Derek laughed when Stiles pulled away to throw himself into his pillows. “I’m sure it won’t be that bad,” Derek muttered, lying down next to Stiles and pulling him in close, not yet ready to let go of him. Then again, maybe he was feeling very different.

**~~~~~**

Apparently it could be  _ that _ bad. Noah immediately groaned, put down his coffee and said, “Seriously, you couldn’t have waited a few more days?”

“Why?” Stiles drew out the word, squinting at his dad.

“Because Lydia bet that you would get together after the party. I bet that you would dance around each other for a few more days, until Stiles accidentally babbled something about loving you.” He gestured at Derek who just leaned away slightly, arms folded, eyebrow raised.

“You  _ bet _ on our relationship?” Stiles’ voice rose, but his laughter was very poorly hidden.

“Yeah, and we would’ve bet on who would provoke the conversation too except we all thought that it would be Stiles. Well, everyone except Isaac.”

Stiles flailed and Derek ducked to avoid being thwacked over the head. Stiles shot him an apologetic look before turning back to his dad, “You  _ all _ bet on our relationship? Dad, you’re a fully grown adult, why in all of the gods’ names did you bet real ass money on when me and Derek would get together?” 

“Because you two are so obvious… So, were we right, did Stiles bring it up first?”

“Technically, no,” Derek said, sliding closer to Stiles and wrapping an arm around his waist.

Noah blinked slowly, “How?”

Stiles smiled, eyes glinting, “That’s none of your business.”

“Fair enough. Alright well, I have to go grocery shopping so Derek, I’ll give you the ‘Dad Speech’ later on. And kid, I’m happy for you and I’ll obviously support you, no matter what.” Derek pulled away from Stiles for a moment so that Noah could hug Stiles before leaving.

“Told you so,” Stiles mumbled.

Derek shook his head, “Yeah, you did.”

*********

The next week and a half went well, bar the nightmares that Stiles would occasionally wake up from – Derek would always be there to calm him down and listen if he needed to talk. Things began to feel normal again, Stiles slowly got used to being human. Derek didn’t press Stiles to tell him about  _ that  _ night, instead, he waited for him. Stiles was grateful for that.

Telling The Pack about their relationship went well, too. None of them had been surprised, Lydia had been glad that she had won the bet, and Isaac had spent a day mocking them all for being wrong about Stiles. And they had a couple of Pack Nights, in which they spent trying to make Stiles feel as normal as possible. Everyone was trying their best, and it was paying off.

Then, when Derek and Stiles were reading, Stiles’ head in Derek’s lap, Derek’s fingers running through Stiles’ hair, a knock sounded from the front door. Timid at first, then again but stronger. Stiles looked up at Derek for a sign; recognition of the scent, a glimmer of a smile, anything. Derek’s face was completely blank.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys, so I know a lot has been going on recently and I wanted to say a couple of things. To start, I hope you are all doing well, I hope you are safe, healthy and taking care of yourself. I know that it can be hard to do, but it's worth it, please make sure you are safe.
> 
> I've been seeing a lot of hate online, so be aware and careful of that (as always). But I've also seen a lot of support for #BlackLivesMatter. I wanted to take this as an opportunity to tell you all that you are all so important to this world and so is your voice. Black lives do matter, and it is imperative that everyone speak up and speak out. Sign petitions, donate where you can, protest if it's safe, and keep talking. Thank you.


	24. Burning In A Lake Of Memories.

**_____**

The alpha was sitting in the forest watching the wildlife move around him. Everything felt  _ wrong _ . Like his whole world had been flipped. His body felt empty yet his skin felt too tight, pressing in on him, suffocating him, restricting his every move. So he stayed sitting on the trunk of a fallen tree – once so strong. It felt like a sick metaphor. Like nature was taunting him, mocking him, laughing at him.

Maybe he deserved it.

After all, he had hurt his mother… and Isaac. He was so sweet, so kind and caring. Isaac  _ had  _ been enough. Scott had just been too scared, the last time he had loved someone so deeply, so passionately, he’d had to watch her die. Held her as she bled to death with nothing he could do to stop it. Which is why, despite Kira constantly telling him to do so, he could never bring himself to break up with Isaac. Because he was  _ selfish _ .

Maybe there was more, it felt like there  _ should _ be more. More that he may never know or understand. Another reason so deeply rooted inside of him that he will never be able to uncover it.

There was no justifying what he had done to Isaac, he knew that now. And there was no way Isaac would ever forgive him, not that he expected otherwise. He sure as hell didn’t deserve it. 

And Kira, he was so lucky to still have her. She had, at first, enjoyed the secretiveness of it all, as Scott had told The Pack, but that had lasted all of a week before guilt had gotten the better of her. She told him, time and time again, that she couldn’t keep it up. And he could see the strain she was under, he could tell how it was affecting her negatively, yet he still continued on. Why had she stuck around?

Who was he kidding? He knew why, he had always known why. She felt the same way about him as he did about Isaac. Of course, he loved her, too, but Kira loved him wholeheartedly and to a fault. A fault that had her putting her morals to the side for him. He had known this, but he hadn’t really given it much thought until now. The fact that he had exploited that made his stomach churn. He gagged, his throat constricting painfully. And, for a brief moment, he wondered if he would actually be sick. What was wrong with him?

“Scotty, are you okay?” Arms wrapped around him from behind and he turned to see Kira.

“Yeah, I was just thinking about… everything.”

“Everything? Like Stiles?” She sounded hopeful, in that way that made him remember why he liked her. But that name…

“I told you to stop bringing him up, please. And, no, I was thinking about Isaac, and you. About how I feel as though I took advantage of you and I’m sorry for that.” Scott took hold of Kira’s hands, turned around and looked right into her eyes. Eyes that held such untainted innocence, such bright joy and purity, Scott refused to let himself destroy that, too. He hoped it wasn’t too late.

“Scott, It’s okay. You didn’t take advantage of me. I loved you, I  _ love  _ you.” Her smile grew into the smile that always made Scott’s heart beat just a little bit faster.

“But I--”

“No, Scott. I stuck by you despite your love for Isaac because I knew he made you happy. Yes, I tried to get you to break up with him for his sake, but you still loved him. I hoped one day you would tell him, and that we might be able to work this out in a civilized way. But unfortunately not.” Scott sighed and Kira’s eyes softened. “Is that all that was on your mind?”

“Yeah, thank you.” He lied. His mother, what he had done to her, how she had reacted, that was also on his mind. Why had he done that? Because he had to. He  _ had _ to.

Surely there was a better way. There was always another way.

“Alright, well dinner will be ready in half an hour so be back in by then.” She sounded disappointed, Scott reminded himself to ask her about it later.

**#####**

Kira knew that what Scott had done was wrong. She knew she shouldn’t stick by him, and as every day went by she began to realise that maybe she  _ couldn’t _ . For a brief moment, she had allowed herself to believe that Scott was having second thoughts, and that moment was the most relieved she had felt in a long time. She hadn’t noticed how much strain this had put her under. Choosing sides, choosing Scott over everyone else, had seemed like the right idea at the time. With Stiles as a vampire and all of Scott’s other reasons that he was dangerous, it had seemed like the logical solution. Leave, get away from everything.

But Scott had hurt his mother so carelessly and it had planted a seed of doubt deep in the back of her mind. Every day, it would grow, but that brief moment had caused it to bloom, and with every passing second, she found a new reason to leave, to go home. 

Her parents hadn’t been happy with her for going with Scott. She hadn’t exactly lied to them, but she hadn’t told them the whole truth either. All she had said was that she needed to get away for a little while. Let things blow over. She hadn’t specified how long she would be gone and for that, she was glad. 

Scott would be back inside in twenty minutes at most. But between now and then she had time to think. How would Scott react if she left? How would she feel being away from him? She still loved him but was it a toxic relationship? It felt equal, they both had jobs – well, she was waiting to hear back from the coffee shop in town, but that wasn’t the point – they both did house chores, they both loved each other. She was sure of all of that. They also talked a lot. But Scott had kept her a secret, hadn’t listened to her, picked Isaac over her. Could she stick by someone who didn’t seem to have respect for her?

Earlier, he had seemed to be thinking about how he had treated her and she had been honest with him. But she had said “I loved you” and that had felt  _ real,  _ more real than any of the times she had said “I love you” since they had gotten their little cottage on the outskirts of the forest. Maybe she didn’t love him anymore. Maybe she just loved the idea of him. Of who he used to be.

A glass shattering on the floor brought her back to reality. Muttering under her breath, she went to get the dustpan and brush to clear up the mess. Could she just leave him? He wasn’t the same guy she had fallen for, but she wasn’t the same either. She had helped Scott cheat on his boyfriend! But it wasn’t her job to break up with Isaac, or to get Scott to break up with him, was it?

Whether or not it was her job didn’t matter, she owed it to Isaac, to her Pack, to have done better.

Maybe it was time she went back. If she was lucky, she wouldn’t be too late.

**#####**

The conversation started poorly. Kira had told Scott that she needed to see her parents – the truth but not all of it, Scott knew immediately that there was more to it than that. He had questioned her until finally she said: “I need to try to fix everything, I feel so guilty.” And that had been all it took for Scott to calm down. It was odd; watching his features relax, pull back into something that reflected the Scott that she had known before this whole mess.

“I understand.” 

“Yo-you do?”

“Of course, I do. But I can’t join you, I’m sorry.” She nodded, the rest of dinner was spent making plans, they only had one car, after all.

**_____**

Kira had left a few days ago, she would be back in Beacon Hills now. If Scott knew her at all, then she was probably with her parents and would be for a while longer. Mostly to get her thoughts in order, partly because she would want to catch up.

But Kira being gone made Scott alone. Kira hadn’t just left him when she had gone home, she had also left his Pack leaving him as an omega. Weaker than ever despite his alpha power. 

He paced around the forest outside of their –  _ his _ – house. Kira hadn’t just wanted to apologise to Isaac, Scott may have made a few horrible mistakes but he wasn’t  _ stupid.  _ After Kira had told him that she needed to fix everything, he could tell she was thinking about the whole of The Hale Pack, and while Scott understood, he wasn’t happy about it. 

Yes, Isaac deserved better, and no apology could make up for what had been done to him, but Stiles… did he really deserve any sign of kindness? He was a vampire, he had murdered an innocent girl. But Stiles had said it himself: he didn’t want to. Just like he hadn’t  _ wanted _ to kill Donovan, just like he hadn’t  _ wanted _ to be possessed.

Stiles hadn’t asked for any of this. He hadn’t wanted to be dragged into the supernatural world but he had done so  _ for _ Scott. Stiles had sacrificed his safety for Scott’s just by helping him. And that hadn’t been the only time either. Stiles had done so much for him and he had just thrown it all away, along with a near life-long friendship. They had been brothers, and Scott had given that up for what? Because he couldn’t come to terms with the fact that Stiles was no longer human.

He stopped walking to sit down by a lake.

Scott had been a coward. The idea that Stiles, who had been through so much already, had become something that he never wanted to be had brought his whole world crumbling down around him. Stiles, his best buddy, the man who had been there for him through everything, who had helped him through so much despite having his own problems (that Scott had never been good at dealing with), had been turned into a monster against his will. The same Stiles who had always put The Pack first.

And the same Stiles who he had turned his back on, even after being offered a second chance.

All because he was scared and angry. Angry that the person he relied on most, the person who was a constant in Scott’s life, could not be that any more. Or at least, that’s what it had felt like. 

But Stiles had still killed that girl and Donovan! If he stayed a vampire and had to watch the people he loved die that would be exactly what he deserved… Right?

Who the hell was he kidding? Every day he felt himself grow weaker. Every day he felt blinded and sickened by his own guilt and self-hatred. Over the last few weeks, he had spent a lot of time outside, thinking. Kira had asked, the day that she had told him that she was leaving, if he had been thinking about Stiles and he had said no. Told her not to talk about him. But the truth was that he had spent a lot of time thinking about Stiles, and each time he had come up with a conflicting answer to the last. Always blaming different people, never allowing himself to be the one under fire despite knowing that he was just dodging the bullets.

He was always the one to blame. He was the one that had ruined everything.

Kira leaving had made him realise that. He had failed Stiles in his time of need in a way that Stiles would never have done. Had it been the other way around, Stiles would’ve stayed. He  _ had  _ stayed. And now Scott had failed everyone that he loved, ruined all of his relationships, with no way of fixing it.

He made to stand up, head spinning and all the negative things he’d said about Stiles pounding and burning him straight to his core, but stopped when he caught sight of his eyes in the water of the lake. One final check…

The red of an alpha flickered out.

One word screamed louder than the rest:  _ monster. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, how are you? Sorry, once again, for leaving you all on a cliff hanger... I hope you enjoyed this chapter. If you did feel free to leave a comment or kudos, or both! They're always appreciated. Have a great day, bye!


	25. Wishing For More.

*********

The knock rang through the house again, Derek’s face stayed impassive. “Stiles, wait here,” he said, Stiles sat up, book dropping into his lap, and watched as Derek left the room. He heard him open the door, step outside, close it again. Then he waited. And waited. And waited. Time dragged on as Stiles’ worry ticked up. He wanted –  _ needed  _ – to know who was at the door. 

Checking the clock on the mantle, Stiles realised it had only been three minutes. Three painful minutes where Derek was out there, facing only the gods knew what, and Stiles was in the living room, fidgeting. What if they had hurt Derek? What if they had taken him? He knew it only took a few minutes for everything to go to shit. So he stood up, headed towards the front door and opened it.

“Stiles, I told you to wait,” Derek said, stepping in front of the person that had knocked earlier before Stiles could see.

He was safe.

He was okay.

Stiles could breathe.

“And you expected me to listen, why exactly?” Stiles quirked an eyebrow, hoping to cover up his unease. Derek rolled his eyes but Stiles didn’t miss the small fond smile that curled at his lips. A quiet giggle had Stiles leaning around Derek to see who it had come from. “So, who was at the door.”

“I was, or am, or well… I don’t know.” The owner of the voice stepped out from behind Derek.

Stiles’ voice caught in his throat, anger and memories bubbling up and forcing themselves all into one word:  _ “Kira.” _

“Hey, Stiles.” She smiled, waving awkwardly with one hand while the other rubbed at the back of her neck. 

“Nope, leave, now. What the hell are you doing here? You left with Scott. You shouldn’t be here, go!” Stiles’ hands shook as he stepped off the front porch, closer to Kira.

“Can we talk?” She kept her voice quiet, Stiles had to strain to hear her, as if that would help her keep Stiles calm. 

Derek shook his head, moving to stand next to Stiles as he said, “We’ve both already told you to leave.” A low growl wove through his voice.

“I know, I know,” She raised her hands in defence, ”but I want to apologise. I know I messed up, I know that what I did was wrong. I thought it was up to Scott to break up with Isaac but I was wrong. I also shouldn’t have left like I did, I shouldn’t have gone with him.” Kira took in a breath and went to continue but Stiles held up a hand.

“Don’t, just stop. There’s no point in apologising to me. Not until Isaac’s forgiven you. If he ever does; you might want to think up a stronger argument on your way over there.” She hadn’t really hurt Stiles, having never had a chance to talk before she bolted, so Stiles didn’t need an apology.

“But--”

“No, stop wasting your breath, I am not the one you should be talking to. Isaac is.” Stiles snapped.

“He’s not going to want to see me.”

“Have you bothered to try?” Derek asked, crossing his arms and lifting an eyebrow.

Kira sighed, ran a hand through her long hair, “No.”

“He’s at Danny’s. Go talk to him.” Stiles shooed her away with his hands until she conceded: nodding before she left. He turned to Derek, looked up at him, he could feel his hands still shaking, knees weak. Derek immediately pulled him in for a hug, soothing his hair down with one hand, the other gripped his hip tightly, holding him up until he could stand on his own.

“I tried to get her to go before you came out,” Derek muttered.

“It wouldn’t have done much, she would’ve just come back. But thank you for trying.” Stiles pulled away, grabbed Derek’s hand and tugged him inside, mind whirling; the initial shock and anger he had felt at seeing Kira washing away and leaving, in its wake, an odd feeling.

“Stiles,” Derek started after Stiles had settled back down on the couch, waiting for Derek to join him. Stiles knew that Derek could tell something was wrong. Something more than Kira being here. And there was: that feeling, but there was more, too. Having Kira show up just made Stiles think of Scott. The Nightmare. The fact that, despite his best efforts, and despite anything he’d said, he could not hate him. Kira reminded him of everything that he had gone through with Scott and every good memory they had together. She had reminded him of all the things he’d never see Scott do and all the things he wouldn’t be able to say to him. She reminded him that he was still  _ there. _ And having him gone…

Despite everything Scott had done, Stiles couldn’t help but feel a hole in his heart. One that he only just recognised as longing. He missed Scott, and just that thought hurt him. Scott didn’t deserve to be missed, Scott didn’t deserve to share his future. Scott didn’t even deserve the time that it was taking Stiles to think all of this  _ shit _ .

And then there was the fact that Scott hadn’t just hurt him, he’d hurt Isaac, too. Stiles couldn’t forgive Scott, he knew that, even if Scott tried for years. The most Stiles could offer him was moving past it, he would try to forgive him despite that, but he wouldn’t be able to, not until Isaac had. Because Isaac was  _ Pack,  _ he was family, and Stiles would put him first.

“Stiles, tell me what’s going on inside your head.” Derek, now sat next to him, eyes searching his, reached forward and grabbed Stiles’ hands. But Stiles’ mind pushed Derek’s words to the side, instead opting to flood him with a whole new wave of thoughts that were desperate to swim; to make sense of everything.

He’d lost people, whether through death or through them moving away (physically or emotionally), he  _ had _ lost people. His mother the most notable. Before she passed away, she had said things that she didn’t mean, it wasn’t her fault by any means, but it still hurt. And after that, he had lost his dad for a short time, too. It hadn’t been a question of if or when he would forgive them, just a statement of “It’s okay, I understand,” and moving forward. 

But neither of them had been Scott. They were his parents, they were the people that loved him unconditionally, that had accepted him, that meant the whole world to him. And Scott, well, he was just Scott, as harsh as that sounded. He’d made mistakes before, as had Stiles, but none of those mistakes had caused either of them to leave. Stiles knew that loss didn’t just  _ go away _ , no matter how much you wanted it to. He knew that someday, he would regret not finding Scott.

He had lost a lot already – not all of which were people – maybe he deserved more,  _ better _ . Maybe he deserved to have this. Maybe, if Scott wanted to come back, Stiles could have him back. The real him. The old him.

“I miss him, Derek.”

“Who?”

“Scott,” Would Derek know how to help? “he was in my dream… my nightmare. Derek, it was so awful, I didn’t know. I could hardly remember what he did.” Derek stayed quiet, Stiles knew he had wanted him to talk about the nightmare – so had Lydia, although her reasoning was more so that she could record it than because she was worried about what had happened. But that’s not why he had brought it up, “It was almost like I had hurt him, instead. Then he came back later on and stabbed Isaac, killed him the same way Allison was killed, the sword in his hands. It felt so  _ real _ . Maybe it has something to do with how badly Scott hurt Isaac, I don't know, but it just makes me feel worse for missing him. I don’t  _ want  _ to miss him.”

Derek was quiet for a long moment before saying, “Stiles, he was your best friend for most of your life. It makes sense that you miss him.” He averted his eyes, “I missed Peter, even after I found out about him being the alpha. Even after I knew that he killed my sister. I still missed him; who he used to be."

“But that’s different! He was literally insane, and now he’s not.”

“But my sister is still dead.” Stiles winced but Derek went on, voice calm, “I’m not trying to say that this is exactly the same, because it’s not, but I am saying that it’s okay to miss the people that hurt us.” Derek’s deep eyes flicked back to Stiles’, wide and filled with promises. Hope flooded through Stiles. Hope that Derek was right and before he knew it he was speaking again.

“What if I want to try to fix things? What if I wanted to go and find Scott and talk to him, ask him why he did what he did, not that he could really offer a completely justified reason but I still want to know, and maybe he’ll surprise me, maybe he’ll be willing to try to fix everything? I don’t think I can forgive him, but I still want to try, at least have him back in town.” He swallowed, hard. 

“Stiles,” Derek trailed off, eyebrows furrowed.

Stiles stood up, hands moving wildly, nearly catching Derek’s face, “I know it’s a bad idea, but what if I can fix things? What if he’s thought things over, what if he’s ready to apologise? Maybe he wants to fix things, too, but is too scared.” He was desperate to try to explain himself but not just to Derek; he needed to know why he wanted to do this, too. He might understand why he  _ needed  _ to, but that wasn’t the same.

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” Derek spoke slowly, choosing his words carefully. “I think you should think about it. I won’t stop you, and I will stand by you, but you need to think this over a little more. Maybe wait until after your birthday? That'll give you some time.” Derek stood up to meet Stiles’ eyes again.

Stiles nodded but kept talking as if Derek hadn’t spoken, “I mean, it only makes sense that I want to see him again, it’s been a long while and he was my brother. Like, dude, come on, he used to be a really good guy. I’m sure that guy is in there somewhere, right? He can’t have forgotten everything, can he? He’s still Scott after all. He’s still the same guy under all that hate and confusion. Isn’t he? 

“Derek, I don’t know what to do. He doesn’t deserve all the trouble he’s putting me through, but I can’t just  _ not _ think about him! I can’t forget about him, I can’t move on. I became human again, I’ve readjusted to being in this body, I have you and The Pack and my dad, and everything I could want! But I can’t  _ move on _ .” Stiles panted, reaching out to pull Derek close only to find him already there. 

Maybe why he wanted this and why he needed it wasn’t so different after all, but explaining it to someone else… it just didn’t seem to make as much sense, he couldn’t find the right words.

“Slow down, Sti.” Derek ran a hand over Stiles’ back, “Slow down.”

“But I can’t, Der, I don’t know how to. I just want everything to be normal again.” Stiles rested his head on Derek’s shoulder, wrapped his arms around Derek’s waist, “I just want him – the real him – back in my life again.”

“I know, but you have to think about everything he’s done. Not just to you but to Isaac, too. What if letting him back in just hurts you more?” 

“What if it doesn’t? Look, I’m not saying that he  _ deserves  _ a second chance, all I’m saying is that… ugh, I don’t know! This feels wrong, I hate that I miss him, I hate that I want to give him a second chance, I hate that I still want him in my life, I hate all of this and I don’t know what to do!” Stiles pulled away from Derek, pushed a hand through his hair, rubbed at his face and dropped back onto the couch with a frustrated sigh. None of his words seemed to be the right ones, lost in translation somewhere between his rushing brain and his too-slow lips. 

He waited a beat, letting himself mull over the words this time: “This is a mess.”

Derek knelt down in front of Stiles, took his hands in his once again and pressed a kiss to the back of them in turn. “It is a mess. I’ll help you through this, I promise.”

Stiles lent forward and pressed his forehead to Derek’s, “Thank you, babe.” Stiles grinned when Derek rolled his eyes. He sobered up quickly, “Seriously, thank you. I don’t know how I would’ve done all of this without your help.” Derek reached up, kissed Stiles. 

“I’m not going to leave you to do this alone, Stiles.” Stiles just smiled and kissed him again.


	26. Cake And Drink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Underage Drinking.

**~~~~~**

Stiles decided to wait until after his birthday, as Derek suggested. Secretly, Derek was glad, despite the all-too-frequent conversations about Scott. But those slowly disappeared as they neared Stiles' birthday.

Isaac came round to Stiles’ house four days before his birthday, and the day after Kira had shown up, to explain that they’d had a long conversation with the end results being that Isaac needed more time, that, though he understood to an extent, he wouldn’t forgive her. Not yet. But she could join The Pack again, if she wanted, and if the rest of The Pack were okay with it. Kira respected that but said she wouldn’t be giving up anytime soon. Stiles had been proud of Isaac and it seemed like Isaac was, too.

The next day, Stiles started opening up more about the time he’d spent inside his head. Just little things: who he saw, how he could barely (if at all) remember what had happened in the moment before, that he’d thought it was real. He cried despite himself, struggling through each sentence. But when Derek told him he didn’t need to force himself to talk, Stiles had said that he wanted Derek to know.  _ Needed  _ Derek to know. Derek hurt for him, held him as they slept, quietened any recurring images. 

Two days from Stiles’ birthday, he told Derek a little more, and every time he spoke he became more himself. Less restrained. More carefree. Watching him unfold, hearing what had happened inside of his nightmare, made Derek glad to be there, glad that Stiles Stilinski, of all people, was  _ his  _ mate. Glad that he would be able to help Stiles through this as Stiles (and The Pack) had helped him. Because he wanted to be everything Stiles deserved, and he felt like the luckiest guy alive to be able to get the chance to try.

Derek knew it wouldn’t be as simple as a few conversations to make Stiles feel okay again, no matter how long they were or how late into the night they took them, because Derek  _ understood  _ nightmares. He understood the pain they can cause, even if he’d never had one that lasted as long as Stiles’ had, or one brought on by anything like what Stiles went through, he did understand. He’d dealt with his own nightmare – while awake and while asleep – and he knew how important it was not to push too hard, but to always be there. By Stiles’ side. Ready to listen. 

Stiles talked about a lot of things often, and it took Derek a while to learn to tell the cries for help from the genuine rambling, he was still learning, but he was getting there. Slowly. As was Stiles.

**~~~~~**

Derek spent most of his time at the Stilinski house, The Pack filtered in and out whenever they felt like it and Stiles settled further into his life.

Lydia arranged Stiles’ birthday party, obviously, with some help from Peter. She decorated the loft, made sure everyone had presents and could come, while Peter organised the music and catering. Unsurprisingly, he procured them alcohol, and even some that would work on the Were’s of The Pack (which Derek wasn’t particularly pleased about, but they promised not to get  _ too _ drunk and it was “only one night” as Peter had said so he let it slide; they were due a day or two of just being  _ normal _ ). And when it came time for Stiles to go over to the loft, Lydia dressed him up again. This time in dark blue jeans, an almost-black blazer jacket, and a white v-neck t-shirt. She tried to get Derek to let her dress him again but he refused, she had pouted but gotten over it quickly and moved on to harassing Isaac.

Stiles had asked her why she was so passionate about having everything be perfect and she had just smiled and told him that he deserved it. Derek had to agree, Stiles had been through a lot, he should get to have a good birthday. A normal eighteenth birthday.

**~~~~~**

When Stiles arrived he was greeted with slaps on the back and cheering. It was rather quickly decided that it was time for presents. He got a few books from Mason and Jackson, some clothes from Lydia, a leather bracelet from Derek with two small charms: a triskelion and a crescent moon. Stiles had been grateful for each of them, and even more so when he had found out that the rest of The Pack had chipped in with Peter to help fix up his jeep. It was more duct tape than it was jeep at this point. Although he did refuse the paint job, saying that “the colour is fine, the paint is still almost all there”.

Derek loved the smile that never faltered or fell from Stiles’ face, lighting up all of his features. He loved that Stiles was genuinely happy,  _ his mate _ was smiling truthfully. It felt wonderful; knowing that he had helped Stiles get the day that he deserved.

Then they started eating cake and drinking. Derek had to remind them to not drink too much. Stiles had been happy to oblige, as he didn’t really want to get drunk. But the Weres that hadn’t been able to drink since their change were a little more reluctant despite their earlier promise.

It wasn’t long before Lydia was suggesting truth or dare.

“Come on, Derek, you have to join in.” She stated, flicking her hair over her shoulder.

“No.” Derek shook his head and stood up from the couch, “You can, I’m not playing.”

“Please, babe, for me?” Stiles grabbed his hand, pulled him down next to where he was sitting in a circle on the floor with the others and smiled at him in that private way. It had Derek groaning and rolling his eyes.

“You’re a dick. Fine, I’ll play.”

Stiles beamed, leaning into Derek’s side, “I know I am, but you adore me anyways. Now, who first?”

The game went on for a couple of hours. They found out a lot of things about each Pack member that Derek really  _ did not _ want to know. And the dares were probably equally as bad. Lydia seemed to enjoy daring different people to kiss, Stiles took delight in daring people to do things that would annoy the rest of The Pack, a lot of rather disgusting drinks were mixed and drunk. Erica loved that she managed to convince Stiles to trade clothes with her for four rounds. Stiles didn’t seem even remotely bothered to be sat in a crop top and mini skirt which led to Erica doubling down and daring him to wear it for the rest of the night… He still wasn’t bothered.

It was almost like the events of the past couple of months had never happened. Derek would give anything if it meant that Stiles could stay in this moment – this peace – forever. But the night came to an end, Stiles and Erica traded clothes again, and The Pack started to leave. 

“Tonight was fun,” Stiles said after everyone had left.

“It was. You look exhausted.” Derek wrapped his arms around Stiles’ waist.

Stiles laughed, “don’t act like you aren’t. We should go to bed.”   
  
“Have you told your dad that you’re staying over?”

“Yeah, he’s got the late shift anyway.”

Derek smiled at Stiles, kissing him gently then letting him go. He watched him for a long moment before actually following him upstairs for bed.

**~~~~~**

Derek wandered downstairs after waking up alone, following the smell of pancakes, maple syrup and coffee. “Morning, Der!” Stiles grinned as he handed Derek a cup of fresh coffee.

Derek raised an eyebrow, “You’re very awake.”

“Yep, I’ve had probably too much coffee and I’m looking forward to diving into those books I got yesterday. How are you this morning?” 

“You don’t have a headache?” Derek ignored Stiles’ question but he didn’t have anything to hide; he was okay. Better than, thanks to yesterday.

“I really didn’t drink much at all. Pancakes?”

“Um, sure.” Derek could sense the anticipation that Stiles was feeling, he knew that they would be having another conversation about Scott soon and neither of them were looking forward to it. They couldn’t put it off forever. But Derek could let Stiles have as long as he needed before he brought it up.

**~~~~~**

That, apparently, wasn’t long. Only a few hours later Stiles called him over from where he was sitting on Derek’s couch. “So, Scott…” Stiles drummed his fingers on the cover of the book he had been reading.

“What about him?” Derek asked, barely holding his disdain for the man away from his words. This was important to Stiles, for more reasons than Derek understood as well as reasons he understood all too well.

“You know what. I’ve thought about it, a lot. I know that it’s stupid and I know he doesn’t deserve it, but I need to talk to him otherwise I think I’ll regret it or something.” Stiles refused to look at him. 

Derek nodded sharply, “Okay.” Though he may not like it one bit, this was something Stiles felt he had to do and there was no way he would stop him. 

“Okay?”

“Yeah,  _ okay _ . But I am coming with you.” As much as he trusted Stiles he did not trust Scott. He knew Stiles could hold his own against Scott in a verbal fight but if it got physical... Stiles wasn’t a vampire any more but Scott was still a werewolf. And The Pack could handle themselves now, he didn’t need to be there to keep an eye on them anymore. So, he was free to go with Stiles, not only to protect him, because he really did have a habit of getting himself into bad situations, but also to support him despite his hatred for everything Scott stood for.

“You want to? I mean, I wanted to ask you to come but I didn’t think you would want to since you obviously don’t want me to talk to him. I understand and all but I--”

Derek cut Stiles off, “Yes, I want to come. No, I don’t like Scott but you want to fix things so I’ll stand by you.”

“Dude, you can’t be all sappy on me like that without warning.” 

Derek frowned, “I’m fairly sure you’ve managed to make me say things that are more… ‘sappy’ before.” 

Stiles laughed loudly, “Jesus, darling, you make it sound like such a hardship.” 

Rolling his eyes, Derek pulled Stiles close enough to kiss him. “Then quit complaining. I’ll ask Kira where he is and we’ll go tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay,” Stiles closed the gap.


	27. The Chains Of Our Past.

**~~~~~**

The Pack wasn’t so excited to hear that Stiles wanted to talk to Scott. There was a lot of shouting and questioning. The scent of outrage filled the loft and the loud noise grated on Derek’s ears. He called over them all, silencing them before saying, “Let Stiles explain.”

“I need to talk to him, I need to give him a chance.” Stiles shuffled his feet, looking to Derek for confirmation before he went on, “I know he doesn’t deserve that, and I know that I’m not the only one he hurt, but I can’t just give up on him. You guys never gave up on me so why should I give up on him?”

“Stiles, there’s a  _ big  _ difference between you and Scott.” Lydia sighed, “Look, I understand where you’re coming from but are you sure this is a good idea?”

Stiles rubbed at the back of his neck, “How often do we give up on the people we care about, especially in this Pack? Look around you,” he gestured around the living room of the loft. “Not all of you have done bad things but you have all gotten yourselves into situations where The Pack could’ve given up. We never did, and that’s partly due to Scott. I am not trying to justify him or what he did in any way. I just think that I won’t be able to rest knowing that I never gave him another chance; that I just gave up on him.” Derek moved to grip one of Stiles' shaky hands, pulling him to his side and looking around the room.

Isaac sat up a little, “If he comes back here then I don’t know if I want to see him, I’ll think about it, but if you want to go and talk to him then you should.” 

“Are you sure?” Stiles had told Derek before that he expected Isaac to react poorly or be mad and that that was not what he wanted. He knew that Stiles would back down if Isaac asked him to.

“Yes, I am. I know that losing someone, in any way, when you have unresolved issues with them is hard.” They all knew what he was referencing. He very rarely spoke about his past at all, let alone like this, “I think if you want to try to fix things then go ahead, just so long as you don’t  _ expect  _ me to talk to him and he doesn’t get a free pass back into The Pack. He has to at least try; talk to all of us or  _ something _ .”

“Thank you, Isaac.” Stiles smiled and Isaac gave him a small nod.

“This is a stupid idea, Stilinski,” Jackson said as he stood up.

“Well, thank you for your input, Jackson.” 

Jackson beamed at Stiles, “Any time. Now I have to go, but you have fun talking to someone that’s surprisingly managed to be below your intelligence level.” He and Ethan left after Ethan gave Stiles a sympathetic smile.

“And here I was thinking we were becoming friends.”

*********

With a lot of long conversations and agreements, deals and understandings, The Pack slowly came round to the idea. Not everyone did, but enough. Some of them understood Stiles but still weren’t happy with the idea, but it was agreed that Scott could at least be offered the chance to come back to town and talk to them all. So long as he didn’t expect to be forgiven.

Kira was shocked to see Derek at her door asking for Scott’s whereabouts but was happy to give them up. 

It only took them a few hours to get there but, once they had arrived, they had to wait for Scott to get back from work. As they waited, doubts began to creep into Stiles’ mind, slowly working their way around all his justifications for coming here and tightening their grip until they exploded from his mouth in a flurry, “Was this a bad idea, what if he gets mad, what if I make things worse, what if everything goes wrong, what if he truly hates me, what if he laughs at me for thinking he’d even want to see  _ me _ , what if he's happy here, what if--” He broke off in desperate need of air but before he got a chance to continue Derek pressed a hand to his mouth and shushed him. “Um, rude.” It came out jumbled against Derek’s fingers, Derek grimaced and pulled his hand away again. 

“No, be quiet, something’s not right.”

“Yeah, I’m having a meltdown and my  _ boyfriend  _ is being a  _ sour wolf _ .” Stiles pouted.

“I’m sorry, Sti, but I’m being serious.” Derek began walking around to the back of the house, Stiles was quick to follow after him. When they got there they both realised what was wrong immediately, “Someone’s broken in.”

“ _ Shit _ . Can you still hear them?”

“No, they must’ve already left.” Derek walked up onto the back porch and pushed open the door. It swung on one broken hinge before snapping off entirely and hitting the floor, the last shards of glass from the window scampered down the hallway only to be caught in a small pool of blood. Stiles walked in after Derek to take a look around.

“Can you smell anything?” He asked Derek.

“Yeah, Scott was definitely here. This is his blood.” Derek muttered the last part as he picked up the broken glass with the tips of his claws. “There’s someone else, their scent isn’t human and they aren’t Kira.” He breathed in deeply again, “Maybe two or three of them.” 

Stiles gritted his teeth together as he ran a finger along the claw marks on the wall, “He struggled,” Stiles bent down and spread his fingers over the marks on the floor, “A lot.” He ran a hand over the door frame, expecting there to be marks there, but there weren’t any. At least, none that were Scott’s. Had Scott stopped willingly or had he been forced to stop?

“It’s only his blood, I can’t see or smell any more that isn’t his. I don’t think he fought back.”

Stiles frowned, “Scott might not like to fight back or kill anyone but if it’s a life or death situation he would’ve at least tried to get in a few scratches, right?”

“I would have thought so. He’s fought me for worse reasons.” 

The two checked upstairs but nothing was out of place there, “This isn’t a robbery gone wrong.” Stiles stated, “This was a mostly successful kidnapping.”

“Mostly?”

“Well, they left a lot of evidence. They might try to come back and clean it up later or…” Stiles ran downstairs, swinging round the bottom of the bannisters, and back outside, “They might be amateurs.” He gestured to the surrounding forest, a pleased smirk on his face.

“They left a trail.” 

Stiles nodded as he echoed Derek’s words. Then said, “We should follow it.”

“We don’t have a plan or backup, what if something goes wrong?”

“What if they kill him?” Stiles saw the flash in Derek’s eyes that had nothing to do with his wolf shift or concern for Scott. “Okay, fine, I know you don’t care.”

“It’s not that I don’t care…"

“It would just make things easier? Derek, if he dies then, well, I don’t know how I would react but I know it wouldn’t be good. Now, come on, I’m sure getting him back won’t be too hard.”

Derek begrudgingly agreed and followed after Stiles as he walked through the clear path left by the kidnappers.

*********

“There they are,” Stiles whispered, stopping abruptly only to stumble a little when Derek walked into him. Derek caught him around his waist and kissed his cheek as an apology. 

They had stopped by a lake, three people were sitting next to it, backs to Derek and Stiles. The one in the middle had chains wrapping around his middle and presumably his wrists and ankles, although Stiles couldn’t see them from where he was standing. It was definitely Scott. But why wasn’t he breaking free? He seemed to be conscious.

The one sat to the left of Scott had long, vibrant blue hair and matching… cat ears? Stiles blinked several times but they stayed there. They must be some sort of werefeline but it was odd that they didn’t hide it; that they stayed in their half-shift. Except there was no need to as they were far away from civilization and there were no clear paths – bar the one they’d created on their way through here – so Stiles doubted that anyone would be coming around here for a walk. 

The one to Scott’s right had paper-white hair and small deer antlers. Stiles had heard of other types of werecreatures, met a few too, but seeing them like this was something else entirely. He wished he had a chance to ask them questions, see how else they differed from the Weres he had already met, but he didn’t. He had to focus.

“What now?”

“I’m not sure.” Stiles rubbed at his eyes, “We talk to them.”

“That won’t work,” Derek said.

“Do you have anything better?”

“We fight them.”

“We will if it comes down to that, obviously. Now come on before they catch us hiding.” 

Derek opened his mouth to argue back, tell Stiles how idiotic that idea was, but was interrupted by a gravelly, masculine voice, “Too late for that. Come out.”

Stiles and Derek did as told and stepped out from their place behind the trees. The two Weres hoisted Scott up and turned around. They were both surprisingly good looking despite the fact that their clothes were dirty. The werefeline had dark freckles that contrasted his fair skin pleasingly. His eyes were bottle-green and accented by makeup, and when he smiled at them he flashed small but sharp, glistening teeth that stood out from his black-painted lips.

The weredeer had black eyes that blended with her pupils, tanned skin and a birthmark over her right eye. She had a small smattering of lighter freckles on her nose and round glasses that seemed just a little bit too big for her. 

They both had intriguing features of their Were side.

“Stiles, what are you doing here?” Scott sputtered.

“Saving your dumb ass, apparently.” Stiles huffed a laugh and turned his attention back to the other two. “Why are you kidnapping him?”

“Kidnapping? We’re not kidnapping anyone.” The deer-girl said.

“It sure looks like you are,” Stiles motioned towards the chains that were, indeed, wrapped around Scott’s wrists and ankles, though rather loosely. 

The girl went to speak again but was interrupted, “No, he’s right, Dala. We are technically kidnapping him.”

Dala stared at her companion for a long moment then said, “Oh. Huh, I guess so.” and smiled sweetly.

“So, I will ask again, why are you kidnapping Scott?” Stiles demanded.

“Zalac, should we tell them or would Boss be angry?” Her eyes widened a little, not in fear, Stiles noted, but in genuine curiosity. 

Zalac sighed and rolled his eyes, “It doesn’t really matter.”

“Oh, great! Can I tell them then?” She chirped, her free hand (the one not holding Scott’s chains) flailing around. Before Zalac could answer she started talking, “Our boss is a collector. Well, he will be, he hasn’t actually managed to start his collection yet. But we’re helping him!”

Stiles turned to Derek who had an equally disgusted look on his face. “How long has he been trying?”

“Four years.” Dala grinned, not at all put off by their apparent constant failure. 

“If that’s all, we’ll be going now.” Zalac gripped Scott’s elbow and yanked.

Scott groaned, “But I’ve already told you: I’m not an alpha anymore. Why can’t you believe that?” Despite this, he made no attempt to pull away.

“Because you must’ve done something pretty shit,” Dala gasped but Zalac ignored her, “to have managed to lose your true alpha status.” Zalac snapped at him, dragging at his elbow again. “Now, we’ve already had a break and The Boss will soon be wondering where we are, so let’s hurry.”

Derek glanced at Stiles and then back at the other two who had begun to bicker over whether or not to listen to Scott, before he spoke up over them both, “He fucked up a while back.” Dala pursed her lips at Derek’s language.

“Yeah, he did. I was actually here to talk to him about it so can I have him back?” Stiles spoke directly to Dala. She tilted her head a little.

“Can’t you hear his heartbeat?” Derek asked. It was a good question, one that Stiles had just been wondering but he hadn’t thought it was the time to ask. Zalac had heard them earlier when they were well out of earshot of anyone with decent human hearing, so why not now?

“I mean, yeah, I guess I can,” Zalac muttered, looking away. “Sometimes I forget about that.” Dala giggled and Derek rolled his eyes. Scott and Derek told them the same story: Scott had messed up and done some shitty, potentially unforgivable things, so he had lost his true alpha status. “Oh, you are speaking the truth. Damn it! Boss is gonna be so pissed at us.” He kicked at the ground, flicked his long hair over his shoulder and glowered at Scott.

Dala nodded, “He’ll get over it. He always does. We can just find him another one!” Another true alpha? That would be lucky. Stiles held back a chuckle and took Scott away from them with no problem. Dala waved her goodbye after apologising a few times, and Zalac just nodded. They left Stiles and Derek to help Scott out of his chains.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed this chapter! Feel free to leave kudos and/or comment. Have a great day!
> 
> (Reach me on Instagram [@_hidden._.wolf_](https://www.instagram.com/_hidden._.wolf_/) )


	28. Broken Gaze.

“That seemed way too easy,” Stiles said as he watched Zalac and Dala leave, “and why didn’t you just break the chains?”

“I, um, I thought that it wouldn’t really matter. No one really cares anyway, I’m alone. I realised that after they brought me outside; there was no point in fighting back.” Scott looked down, “And I’m an omega, I’m too weak.”

“What about Kira?” 

“When she left, she also left my Pack, and, well,  _ me _ . And since I’m no longer an alpha, I can’t make a new Pack.”

“And your mom?” Stiles raised an eyebrow, challenging.

“I, urm. I didn’t really think about her. I was a dick to her, too, so I just thought…”

“Huh, well, you’re an idiot.” Stiles cuffed Scott over the back of the head, “just because you think no one cares doesn’t mean you should just  _ let _ people kidnap you.”

“I don’t think that’s the only reason I’m an idiot.” Scott rubbed at the back of his head, still refusing to look Stiles or Derek in the eye.

“Well, no shit. What made you finally realise that?” Stiles asked. 

When Scott glanced up, still not fully meeting their gaze, Derek growled low in his throat and flashed his eyes red. Stiles didn’t stop him, just took his hand in his own. He could feel Scott’s eyes fall to their hands but ignored it in favour of prompting him to talk. 

“I had been thinking about it for a little while but after Kira left… Well I had a lot of free time to think and her leaving made me sort of understand that I was alone in what I had done and, well, I know just saying sorry isn’t enough but I want to try to fix things. No matter how long it takes.” He sat down on a fallen tree by the lake and finally looked up at Stiles and Derek. “I lost my alpha power completely after Kira left, too. I had felt it dwindling but I chose to ignore it, I thought that I was just adjusting to having such a small Pack.”

“You’re right, a ‘sorry’ won’t be enough. But I came here to give you a second chance, not because you deserve one but because that’s what we do. And because I don’t think I could rest knowing that you threw away years of friendship just like that; with no remorse.” Stiles said.

“Stiles, I know this doesn’t make what I did better, but part of the reason I did it was because I was scared. I was scared of losing Isaac and I was angry that you weren’t human any more. That, and the fact that you didn’t tell me.”

“I didn’t tell you because I was afraid of losing you. You and The Pack. None of them reacted like this, Derek walked in on me drinking  _ blood  _ and he still stayed. Liam was  _ your _ beta and he stayed.”  _ After a little persuasion _ , Stiles thought but didn’t say. “Jackson doesn’t even really like me and he stayed. They stayed and they helped me become human again because  _ that _ is what real friends do: stick by you and help you when they can. They do  _ not  _ run when you need them the most.” Stiles took a deep breath, allowed Derek to wrap an arm around his waist and let the slow rise and fall of his chest calm him.

Scott let his head fall into his hands, hid his tears and choked on a sob before he finally managed to speak again, “I know. I fucked up and I don’t know how or if I can fix it, but I want to go home. I want to see my mom and I want to talk to Isaac and The Pack. I want to try to make up for everything even if that takes years.” He hiccuped, pushed his hair out of his face and looked up at them. He looked so innocent, so broken and hurt by what  _ he  _ had done, his eyes puffy, red-rimmed and imploring, lip trembling, hands shaking even where they clung to his sides, arms wrapped around himself.

Scott looked lost in himself, so truly regretful and pained by the way he had acted it almost didn’t seem right. Like an act. There was no way that in the short amount of time that had passed since they last saw each other Scott had changed his perspective on what he had done, right? “Scott, I want you to look me in the eyes and tell me that what you did was a mistake, tell me that you’re sorry and  _ mean it _ .” He gave Derek a significant look and got a nod in response.

Scott stood up and walked closer, stopped in front of Stiles and looked him directly in the eyes, gaze not wavering for a moment, “I am  _ sorry _ . I am so sorry, I want to fix everything. I want to make up for all of my mistakes, will you let me try?” 

Stiles looked over at Derek to see if what Scott had said was a lie. It wasn’t. Scott had told the truth. He wanted to fix things, too. “Yes, I will, but I want to make sure you are clear on a few things first: you are not to approach Isaac, you will wait for him to talk to you, you will not get in the way of him and Danny, you will, if you meant what you said, work to be forgiven – me taking you back home is by no means an acceptance of your apology – and you will talk to your mom, apologise to her as soon as we get back. This is your chance to fix things, do  _ not  _ waste it. Do you understand?”

“I do, and I will do all of that. Thank you, for everything.”

Stiles nodded, turned and the three of them walked out of the forest and back to Scott’s house. This was not over, by any means, but it was a start.

*********

On the way back home, Stiles asked, “What did you mean when you said that you were ‘angry because I’m not human anymore’? Because I thought you were angry because I killed a girl despite it not being my fault. You called me a murderer, a monster.” He tried, and failed, to suppress a shiver at the thought. Derek’s hand came to rest just above his knee, thumb rubbing slow circles to help keep him calm.

“I did. I did and I was wrong. So wrong, Stiles, you’ve done so much for The Pack, and you stuck by me through so much. The last time you weren’t human, it scared me.” Scott’s eyes met his in the rearview mirror then flicked away.

“You said ‘angry’ not ‘scared’.”

“Yeah, I was angry that you, of all people, would become something that had even less control over themselves than werewolves do. You had been through so much already, you didn’t deserve that too. You already held so much guilt, and I hadn’t helped you with any of that, and now you held this, too. It wasn’t fair, I got angry, I took it out on you.” Hearing that, thinking about everything that Scott had said, everything that he had done, the fact that he’d had a chance to fix it before and had turned it down, Stiles wasn’t sure if it all fit together.

“And Isaac?”

“I don’t have an answer for that. Not really. I was scared of losing him like I did Allison. I still love him, I think I do, maybe I always will, but I won’t try to get him back because I don’t deserve him. I don’t deserve anyone.”

Derek snorted, rolled his eyes, “And what about when Lydia called you?”

“I was still angry, I thought it was at Stiles but I was wrong, again.” He sighed, “God, I’ve been wrong so much. I don’t even know why you bothered to come pick me up, do you still need me for the ritual thing?”

“No, I’m human now.” Stiles replied, “And I’ve already told you, you’re getting a second chance because it just didn’t make sense; the way you acted was wrong, out of place… At least it seemed like that. But thinking about it now, maybe I was wrong.” Scott had brushed him off often, ignored his advice, chosen Theo over him, among other, smaller, things. But he’d also kept Stiles alive during his possession and, despite the torment it brought him, especially on bad days, he was grateful that Scott had found another way. But that didn’t make up for everything Scott had done, that would take time… a lot of time.

“Maybe you were.” Scott agreed.

*********

They talked a lot on the way home. They talked until Derek fell asleep in the passenger seat and Scott began to run out of ways to say “I’m so sorry”. Stiles dropped him off outside his home, waited until he had taken his things from the trunk, and then drove off.

Derek yawned, looked around before asking, “We home?” A slight flutter ran through Stiles' chest when he realised that Derek had referred to the Stilinski house as his home. He smiled, nodded and got out of the car. “Good.” Derek joined him, they both headed inside. “Did you and Scott finish talking?” Derek’s voice was still sleep rough and weary, it was endearing and had Stiles planting a quick kiss on his lips.   


“Yeah, I’m still pissed at him but I feel… I don’t know, different, I guess, after bringing him home. It feels like the right thing to do, and I think he and Melissa have a lot to talk about, too.”

Derek nodded, stretched and reached for Stiles’ hand, “We need dinner, should we just order today, or is your dad coming home soon?”

Stiles checked his phone, “He’ll be back in twenty minutes but I think we could all do with a treat, let’s order take out.”

**=====**

Noah was glad that Stiles was talking to Scott, in a way. But in many other ways, he was not. Scott was an ass, a complete and utter ass and Noah was okay with admitting that even if the guy was barely eighteen. He had hurt Stiles, Noah’s  _ son _ , he had a right to be mad at him, no matter his age. 

But Scott was learning and, if he took Stiles up on his overly generous offer to allow him to make it up to The Pack, then he was heading in the right direction. Everyone made mistakes, especially when they were only  _ just _ an adult. Granted they didn’t usually involve ruining a near life-long friendship because their friend had become a vampire, or cheating on an already vulnerable kid with major trust issues. But then again not everyone became a werewolf at sixteen and had to deal with the repercussions of that either. Scott had had to deal with a lot a kid his age shouldn’t have to deal with and so had most, if not all, of The Pack, so Noah understood that he would not be perfect or anywhere near that.

Still, nothing excused what he did. That much he was sure of. That and the fact that he would protect Stiles with everything he had, so if Scott made one wrong move, he would be out of town faster than Stiles could even think up a plan to stop it from happening. Because he had raised a good kid – one that would most likely give Scott another chance for Melissa’s sake – not that he could take all the credit. Stiles was the kind of good, the kind of strong, that came from deep-rooted understanding, from a painful past that ran longer than just the past few years. 

Noah had regrets, too. From after Claudia had died, how he had handled it, how he had left Stiles to raise himself for months. Stiles had forgiven him quickly and he’d vowed to never let himself do that to his son again. But Stiles had grown so much in those months, taught himself to take care of everything that Noah had been incapable of – too grief-stricken to think straight – and to deal with his emotions in ways Noah was yet to understand. He wished with every part of himself, that he could go back and fix that, but he couldn’t, so instead he pressed forward. Made sure that he supported Stiles no matter what, so long as it was safe. So long as Stiles was  _ safe _ .

So, if he wanted to bring Scott back, Noah was all for it. Until Scott messed up, until he gave Noah a reason to kick him out again, he would help Stiles bring back the old Scott, the good Scott. 

And he would thank any and every supernatural force out there for Derek. Derek Hale, his kid’s boyfriend and the guy that was there for Stiles when he couldn’t be, the guy that looked at Stiles like he was the most valuable being on this planet, exactly how he deserved to be treated. He trusted Derek to look after Stiles, and knew that it went both ways for them. That Stiles was as good for Derek as Derek was for Stiles. He was glad that he had the privilege of seeing his kid, his  _ boy _ , become the man he had always been while still helping those he loved. Because Stiles would never give up on his loved ones.

And that was the kid he raised, that was the son of Claudia Stilinski. He knew, for a fact, that she would be proud of him and everything he stood for. 


	29. My Vow To You.

*********

That night Stiles and Derek lay curled up in Stiles’ bed, talking quietly about everything. It was grounding, normal,  _ okay _ . In many ways, Stiles felt it to be perfect. Beautiful – as cliche as that sounded, even to him – but he needed this, they both did. 

Calling it a hard few months would’ve been a bigger understatement than calling Scott a  _ bit of a bother.  _ So, Stiles cherished the quiet moments. Having Derek next to him didn’t get rid of all the bad, just made it easier to cope. It was moments like these that reminded him that one day the bad days would be overshadowed by the good.

He knew, realistically, that he would always have bad days but everyone did. And that was okay, because he wasn’t alone, not anymore, and neither was Derek. 

Though the nightmare of everything – from his mother’s death to Scott being bitten, and everything after – would never truly leave, staining his heart and his thoughts, they  _ would  _ fade, with time. With patience. With Derek and The Pack. They would help each other through everything, the good and the bad. He loved them for that, for everything. 

He made a promise to himself: no matter what happened with Scott over the next few weeks, months, years, he wouldn’t let him ruin The Pack. Not like he had before. Even if none of them had noticed at the time... And if it meant saying goodbye to him once and for all, then, well, he would deal with that if it came to it. He hoped it didn’t.

**~~~~~**

Derek looked down at the young man now sleeping on his chest, holding onto him tightly as if afraid he’d disappear, and smiled. He was exceedingly lucky, he knew that. Just like he knew that if it weren’t for Stiles he would still be lost, drifting in the vast expanse of sea that was his mind. Stiles allowed him to unlock his lips; talk freely. To feel happy.

One day, he, Stiles, and The Pack would all be okay again. They would be able to have as normal a life as a supernatural could. They would mend and heal each other, as they had been doing since they first met. 

This was what hope felt like, Derek realised with a start. Real  _ hope _ .

Stiles was so strong, he astounded Derek every day with his persistence to continue fighting, to continue to love, despite how often the world pushed him down. Stiles may be the human in a Pack of wolves, but he was beyond that in ways Derek didn’t quite understand. 

He didn’t let what happened to him define him, not like Derek had, but he never made Derek feel lesser for their different ways of coping. Maybe it was too soon, maybe not, but he loved Stiles for that, and for everything.

Derek made his own promise: he would never let Stiles fight alone again.

**+++++**

“Scott, you’re home?” Melissa asked, voice cracking halfway through her son’s name. Of course, Stiles had told her that he was going to talk to Scott, try and bring him home to her and she had been incredibly surprised, though she now felt she shouldn’t have been. She had almost asked to come with them, except if Scott had refused right to her face, she… Well, she wasn’t entirely sure what she would’ve done, but it would’ve ruined her more than watching Scott drive away. 

Maybe it was an act of cowardice, maybe it was simply one of self-preservation, she didn’t know and, right now, she didn’t care because Scott was standing at her door, bags behind him like he planned on staying, and dried tears on his cheeks. What he had done didn’t matter, nothing mattered. Not right now. Because her boy was home, and he had been crying. 

She pulled him into a hug, a long string of “you’re home, you’re home, god, you’re finally home” fell from her lips. Scott held her back just as tightly, he had lost track of the days, had no idea how long it had been since he’d last seen his mom but he had missed her.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” his voice was hoarse from crying and maybe from hours of talking, hours of more apologies, all genuine. “I fucked everything up, mom. I said that I would try to fix it but I don’t even know where to start, I don’t know how to do this.” And the sincerity behind his words stung. He sounded lost, confused, burning with self-loathing and wishful hoping. 

“Let’s start by getting you inside.” She helped him bring his bags into the house and up to his room. They stayed in relative silence, Scott unsure of what to say and Melissa still trying to process everything.

A conflicting and persistent thought crept into her mind: what about the way Scott had acted? How should she approach making sure he understood that she was disappointed in him?

**+++++**

“I’m sorry.”

“I know you are, Scott.” Melissa said, dropping her head into her hands, her hair falling over her face, “Why? I need to know: why did you do all of this, why did you leave, why did you cheat on Isaac, why did you call Stiles all of those horrible things?”

Scott stood up and walked away from the couch, his back towards her, ran a hand through his too-long hair and took a few slow breaths. It was painful, seeing her son battle with himself with no way of helping him, seeing him not able to understand what was going on inside of his  _ own  _ head, and she knew this wasn’t the first time. 

After Scott had been bitten, he and Stiles had had to figure out a lot of things alone and, though Derek tried to help, it really wasn’t easy. Scott was already struggling to make his way through high school and then he had this extra pressure added on top of it all. To make matters worse, after she’d found out she had stopped talking to him for almost a week. So, once she realised that he had the intention to use his newfound abilities for good, she made a vow to herself never to jump to conclusions that may end up with Scott getting hurt by her actions again. But she still fought against the regret that she had left him alone when he needed her most.

She wouldn’t do that to him, not again. So she sat in the pounding silence, waiting while Scott thought. Letting him come to a conclusion that he might understand.

“I left like I did because it was easier, I thought that… I  _ knew  _ that you could convince me to stay, to fix things with Stiles, if I told you that I was leaving with Kira, because you would be able to see right through me. My lies. How I didn’t want any of this. I think I knew, deep down, that I didn’t blame Stiles for any of this, I blamed myself.” The way he said it made it clear that he was only now becoming aware of how real it was, how deeply his self-loathing ran, how  _ this  _ was what had caused all of this. Those three words were the root of everything. She resisted the urge to hug him, to wipe his tears and tell him it was all going to be okay because it  _ wasn’t. _ And wouldn’t be. Not for a long time. “I- I blame myself.” He turned around, eyes wandering along the walls, dancing over the door.

“I blame myself, it’s all my fault, I should’ve made sure he was safe. It’s all my fault. Oh,  _ God _ , it’s all my fault!” He sank down, back pressed to the wall, eyes wide and drowning in dread. “I should’ve protected him when the vampires came to town, I should’ve broken up with Isaac, and instead I left them both  _ completely alone. _ I never let myself think about the consequences and…  _ shit!”  _ he was talking more to himself than to Melissa now, "Stiles was human, and if I had paid closer attention to him then I would've known something was off. Maybe I would've been able to prevent all of this shit from happening. 

"And Isaac! I don't even have a real reason. I was scared of losing him, so I pushed him away? I didn’t want to lose him like I lost Allison, but..." Finally, he looked back up at Melissa, "what the hell is wrong with me?"

"Sweety, nothing is  _ wrong _ with you. You've made a lot of mistakes. Everyone does." 

"But not like this!" He stood up, walked over, fell down next to her on their couch.

"No, you're right there, not like this. But it wasn't your fault that Stiles got turned, any of The Pack could've made the decision to keep an eye on him, but it's not their fault either.” Scott made a noise of disagreement, but Melissa ignored him and went on, “While you taking the anger you held for yourself, unknowingly at the time, out on them was completely unfair. And then continuing to do it, even after you'd cooled down a little, made it worse. And on top of that, you hurt your now-ex boyfriend--"

"Mom." Scott groaned, dropping his chin to his chest and hunching forward.

"I'm sorry, but you have to know that I  _ am _ disappointed in you. But, Scott, you are my son, I will help you fix this.” She ran a hand over his back, “Starting with: when you apologise to The Pack, do not make excuses. If they ask you questions, answer them honestly, if they tell you to leave, you leave, if they want to talk to you individually, you do that. And, for god’s sake, don’t argue with them. It is possible to be forgiven, but you're gonna have to be incredibly patient." She knew they had more to discuss but this was a good place to start.

"I know, thank you."

Melissa pulled Scott into another hug, soothed his hair down and sighed. "Just try your best, and don't fuck up any more."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, how is everyone doing? I hope you enjoyed today's chapter! Comment, vote, share, all that general jazz. If you want to, that is. Have a good day and stay safe! :)


	30. Counting Your Sins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Implied/referenced aphobia

**~~~~~**

“So,” Lydia started, raising an eyebrow at Scott, “talk.”

Scott stared at The Pack. Everyone had made it, even Jackson. Surprisingly, Isaac was there, too, gripping Danny’s hand like his life depended on it. Danny looked to be in pain until Isaac realised and relinquished his grip slightly with an apologetic smile, but he stayed tightly pressed against him, as if to show Scott that he had moved on to someone who  _ actually _ cared about him.

Kira wasn’t there, she hadn’t been invited, but Derek knew that she wouldn't have come even if she had been. She was still in trouble with her parents for not keeping in touch while she was away and for leaving so abruptly.

“Scott?” Lydia prompted again, curtly. Her voice held dark threats and spiteful promises. If Lydia wanted to, she could be more terrifying than a vast majority of the monsters they had faced, and right now, she  _ really  _ wanted to be.

“I don’t know where to start.” He said finally, eyes skirting around the room, flicking to the door, running over the place where Isaac had swung at him then drawing back and staying there, “I deserved it, when you hit me, and when Jackson scratched me.”

Derek blinked, looking over at Jackson in surprise. Jackson just shrugged and said: “He was being an asshole, he needed to be taken down a few pegs.”

“Aw, I knew you cared.” Stiles cooed, but there was genuine happiness in his eyes. Derek moved closer, wrapped an arm around his waist and gripped his hip, wordlessly joining Stiles in his pride at their Pack. Stiles looked up at him, a quiet smile on his lips.

“I did,” Scott agreed with Jackson, everyone's attention snapped back to him, he ducked his head. “I am sorry, I know I may never earn your trust or forgiveness, but I want to try.”

Lydia sighed, glanced around the room, no one else was going to say anything, “Alright,” she stood up, a resigned look gracing her features, “Well, we need to at least know why you want to do this.”

“Um, yeah, of course.” He bit his lip, eyes wide in a way that reminded Derek, disconcertingly enough, of a puppy. “Yesterday, I told Stiles that I did what I did because I was mad at the fact that he wasn’t human any more, something he really didn’t want, and that I took it out in the wrong way. And that’s true, but it was also because I blamed myself for him becoming a vampire. I should’ve protected him. I should've been there. I want a chance to try to make up for the way that I took out my anger.”

There was a long moment of heavy silence, it swallowed them, dragged them down until the room rang with a compounded  _ nothing _ . 

“What about me?” The words split the room, pulled Scott’s focus onto Isaac as he thought about what he had said, “You talked about why you hurt Stiles, but what about me? You don’t get a free pass just because you were angry, especially since this had been going on for god knows how long before Stiles told us about his vampirism.”

Scott took a long breath, but before he could speak Danny cut him off, “Think carefully about what you say next.” There was a dark growl to his voice that Derek, if he didn’t know any better, would’ve said was one of a wolf protecting the one he loved.

Scott nodded. Paced the floor for a moment then pulled to a stop. “I keep asking myself the same question and I always seem to get the same answer: the last time I loved someone as much as I love you, I had to watch them die in my arms.”

Jackson frowned, “‘Love’? Scott, you told me, to my face, that you thought Isaac couldn’t give you what you ‘ _ needed’,  _ that he wasn’t ‘ _ enough’ _ for you. You cheated on him with no intention of breaking up with him. Tell me if I’m wrong but that  _ isn’t _ love.”

Isaac’s scent had slowly soured and he looked up at Scott with such deep-rooted pain in his eyes that Derek felt the urge just to kick Scott out again. Danny had worked so hard to help Isaac gain his confidence back after Scott had left but Scott’s words had pulled on a loose thread and he could see Isaac unravelling in front of his eyes.

Stiles stiffened next to Derek and he knew that Stiles was, once again, rethinking his decision. Maybe there truly was no coming back from what Scott had done. 

Just that thought had Derek’s chest aching; he didn’t want to be the one to explain that to Stiles. He wouldn’t have to be if Scott said the right thing, but was there a right thing to say? 

“This was all because I’m asexual? I mean, I had guessed maybe, but you said that you were okay with it, that you would talk to me, that it wasn’t a big deal.” He pulled in on himself a little, moving away from Danny and tugging his hand away. Danny’s scent turned bitter quickly, fury rising and taking over his usual calm smell. His hands curled into fists and shook with the effort of not punching Scott right then and there.

Scott’s eyes were wide and real, honest to god tears were falling down his cheeks. Jackson’s words had shocked him. Like he had forgotten that he had said them, like they weren’t meant for anyone else to hear. “I-”

“Scott, don’t tell us that you were lying, I heard your heartbeat,” Ethan said.

“I thought it was the truth.” Scott rushed, “It took me too long to realise that it wasn’t. Isaac was  _ always _ enough, perfect just the way he is, I wouldn’t change anything about him, not ever. He’s perfect, so perfect. It was never,  _ ever _ about his asexuality and I shouldn’t have tried to make it about that because I was always more than okay with it. He was always so good to me, so kind and understanding and snarky,” Scott’s lips twitched up a little, “and he is so strong. He was… I love him.”

“But you loved  _ her _ more.” Isaac spat.

“It doesn’t matter now. She doesn't want me. Not long after we started dating, she started talking about how I should break up with you, for your sake. When she left to come back here, she broke up with me.”

“But, Scott, it  _ does _ matter. Don’t you see that? You  _ loved _ her. You chose her over me!” Isaac was trembling, but he’d relaxed back into Danny’s side, hand moving back to his, gently rubbing at Danny’s fists until they flattened out again. Derek knew that Isaac liked to pretend that he was okay, he knew that Isaac hated being this open in front of The Pack, and especially when Scott was there, and it made him want to send Scott away. But if there was one thing Derek had learned throughout his life (bar the fact that talking to the people you love is a good way to feel better) it was that dealing with your problems head-on can, most of the time, be good. And Scott was definitely a problem. 

“I was scared to break things off with you because I thought that maybe we wouldn’t be able to continue being friends.” Scott blurted the words like he wasn’t aware that they were actually coming from his mouth. “I was afraid to hurt you,” This time his voice was slow, calculated, “and, as a result, hurt you so, so much more.” Derek wondered how long he’d known this, he hadn’t mentioned it before, Stiles would’ve said something. And he didn’t seem aware that it was true until after he’d spoken.

“You did.” Isaac agreed. “But you said that you  _ love _ me, not loved.”

“I  _ do _ love you, but, as you said, I love her more –  _ differently _ . It just took me too long to realise that. I am sorry.” 

“That’s not good enough, Scott.”

“I know. Nothing is. I messed up. I’m trying, but I just don’t know what to do.”

When there was no response, he went on, “Before Stiles and Derek found me, I was kidnapped. It wasn’t for very long, but it only took me about two minutes to stop fighting it. I stopped because I realised that no one would care. I was completely alone and it was all my fault, it didn’t matter. No one would miss me, I didn’t even have a job to go back to since they fired me, so there was no point. It was all my fault. Everything is so fucked up and it is all my fault.” No one seemed bothered or concerned to hear that Scott had been kidnapped, it didn’t surprise Derek in the slightest. But a flicker of  _ something _ did pass over Isaac’s face, as well as a few of the others in The Pack.

Lydia ignored what he had said, pushed it away with a wave of her hand as if it were nothing and said, “What about your mom? Do you have an excuse for that?”

Scott rocked back on his heels for a second, having not expected Lydia’s flippancy towards what he had said, then he shook his head. “I am not trying to make excuses for what I did, I just want you to understand my thought process.”

“I don’t care, answer my question.” Lydia tapped her heel on the floor, crossing her arms.

“I knew that she would be able to make me stay and fix things, and I wasn’t ready for that yet. I wish that I had been, but I wasn’t. And I still wasn’t when you called me. I have said and done a lot of things that I regret, including nearly everything I said on that phone call.”

The room fell into a painful silence, once again. This time it stretched on for an eternity, Stiles fidgeted under Derek’s arm, tapping his fingers over his thighs slowly, one by one on one leg, then again on the other. Counting. He was counting his fingers, making sure he was still awake. Derek thought back to what Stiles had said about Scott, and his nightmare, what Scott had said and how Stiles had felt, what he had thought. Scott’s words now were making him second guess himself and his consciousness. Maybe it was time to get Stiles out of here, at least for a few minutes.

He squeezed Stiles’ shoulder, Stiles glanced up at him, Derek flicked his eyes between Stiles’ fingers, still tapping slowly, absently, and the door. Neither of them wanted to break the heavy silence; it wasn’t theirs to break, so Stiles nodded. Still, without a word, they both left. No-one stopped them, they all understood that this was their time to talk to Scott; Stiles had already had his chance and, undoubtedly, would again later. So they were free to leave, and soon so would the rest of them. 


	31. Until I Say Otherwise.

**_____**

They stood in silence for minutes after Stiles and Derek left, Scott didn’t quite get why they left or why no one had called them out but he wasn’t going to be the one to ask. 

Eventually, the need to speak, to break this dense tension, became too much and he said, “I really am sorry. I know you all can tell that that’s the truth, but I don’t expect you to accept it.”

“Good,” Jackson said, standing up, Ethan in tow. “Because I never did like you and, while none of what you did affects me directly, you did try to recruit me to your ‘side’ and you hurt  _ my  _ Pack. I have no reason to forgive you, and you don’t have to work to be forgiven, because there is, and never was, anything to save.” 

“I have to agree with Jackson. We were never friends, McCall, and I have no plans to change that.”

Scott nods, thinking back to what his mom had told him, “Understood.” 

“Good. We’ll be leaving now. It’s up to the rest of you, if you want to bring him back, for whatever dumbass reason, then do. I don’t care.” Jackson and Ethan left, chatting about what they were going to watch later, where they would get takeout from, acting as if nothing had happened. The rest of The Pack waited until they had left, listening for the sound of Jackson’s car.

Slowly, they moved around to each person. They all got a chance to berate Scott’s actions, say whether or not they would let Scott have a chance to fix what he’d done. Leaving once they’d spoken as if in silent agreement to let Isaac and Danny have some time to talk to Scott without any of them there.

Scott was glad that Isaac had even turned up, he hadn’t expected to see him for a while. Not really. 

Despite how much he hated that they all got to decide what happened to him next, he stayed. These people, this Pack, were his family. He loved them all, he had been so incredibly lonely without them, even with Kira there, it had taken him too long to realise that – that seemed to be a recurring thing with him. He needed them but they didn’t need him. He needed Isaac, needed him to understand that he was more than sorry, needed him to know that Scott had never stopped loving him. So he would stay, stay until he was told to leave, stay until he couldn’t anymore. Stay because these people had been  _ it _ for him, they had been the people that he was bound to through trauma, fighting and something more than blood, bound through Pack and loyalty and risk. They were his family – his  _ Pack _ – he just had to become theirs.

**_____**

Finally, everyone else was gone. Scott sat down opposite Danny and Isaac, folding his hands into his lap and avoiding eye contact. Waiting. 

“Are you still in love with me?” Isaac asked. Earlier, Scott had said that he loved Isaac but that was different. Scott had to think carefully about the answer; a couple of days ago he would’ve said yes. But that was a lie. A lie to himself as well as Isaac. He hadn’t been  _ in _ love with Isaac for a long while, too long.

So he shook his head, “No.”

“Do you care about me?” That was a ridiculous question, of course Scott  _ cared _ about him. He always had and always will… Except, he hadn’t shown it. He’d never proven it or said it aloud, Isaac had no evidence. All Scott had ever given him was a shattered heart, and he hadn’t even been the one to pick up the pieces. Hadn’t even had the decency to break the news gently, he’d practically spat it out in anger and defiance. He wished that he could go back in time and fix this all; stop himself from ever doing this, stop Isaac and Stiles from ever feeling the pain that he had caused them.

Scott met Isaac’s gaze, “I do, I always have.” Hopefully, Isaac understood how desperate he was for a chance to prove himself. Maybe he would even let him do so.

“I can hear your heartbeat, I know that’s the truth. I just don’t see  _ why  _ it’s the truth. Do you care about me because you feel like you have to, because you’re lonely or do you care because you  _ actually  _ care?”

“I care because you’re worth caring about.”

“But I’m not worth faithfulness, loyalty, truth, genuinely loving?” Isaac’s eyes held unwavering contempt but there was a layer of something underneath, something that stung Scott more than his words. 

“You are worth more than I ever gave you. I’m glad you have someone who knows how to treat you.” Scott felt tears press against his eyes, and shutting them tightly only ended in them clogging in his lashes before dripping down his face.  _ Damn it _ , he hadn’t wanted to cry again; every tear felt like a lie, heavy with falsehoods and trickery, guilt and manipulation. But he couldn’t stop them, couldn’t hold them back. Emotions washed over him, each one dragging him down into a darkness he was yet to meet, drowning him in a way he was yet to be familiar with. 

His mind screamed at him to  _ stop,  _ his heart ached and pounded, twisting and contorting, until his mind screamed again. Again.  _ Again. _ He longed for Isaac to feel compassion that he knew he did not deserve, wished for him to hold him as he cried. But he stayed on his side of the room. They both did. Scott’s throat tightened as he held back a sob, gripping onto the words he wanted to yell, twining around them and constricting until they died on his tongue. He pushed the heels of his hands into his eyes, the biting roughness of his skin shocking him slightly, just enough to force the dead words past his slightly bloody lips. When had his wolf teeth come out? How hadn’t he noticed?

“When I was taken, I kept thinking about how alone I was, how it didn’t matter anymore, like I said earlier. But I also thought about how I would never get the chance to apologise to you, never get to tell you that it wasn’t your fault, of course it wasn’t. It never would be, never will be. You were perfect,  _ all  _ of you, so perfect. I’d never get to make sure that you’re okay, or  _ anything _ . Maybe that was a reason I should’ve fought back.” 

He couldn’t get his fangs to go away and he knew why: he no longer had an anchor. He couldn’t rely on himself, he couldn’t be his own anchor, not anymore. So, instead, he dug his claws into his palms and, this time, the pain registered. He drew it to his core, let it ring through him, pull in his wolf features and wash through his lungs until he could breathe again. Finally,  _ finally, _ he managed to get his tears to stop. It took a few more moments before he could collect himself enough to look back at Isaac and Danny. When he did, he wished he hadn’t.

Shame and embarrassment wrapped around his heart, battling for dominance with the guilt and self-loathing. He had just sat here and cried, outright wept, in front of them and, despite everything he’d done to them, they looked pitying. Nevertheless, they made no move to comfort him. Not a word. Not a slight gesture. Nothing. Exactly what he deserved:  _ nothing _ . 

Maybe Stiles had wasted his time. Maybe they should’ve let him be taken. Maybe he would’ve deserved it. 

“Scott, you are truly the biggest moron I have ever met in my entire life,” Danny said. And, well, Scott couldn’t say he was surprised exactly but those definitely weren’t the words he would’ve chosen. They let what Danny had said hang in the air for a long moment, sink deep into Scott’s skin, before he spoke again, “It’s obvious that you’re torn up over this, we’re not blind, and it’s even more obvious that it’s genuine. As annoying as that is because it is so much easier to hate you than it is to pity you.” 

Isaac nodded, “I really didn’t want to say this but I think I can give you a chance to make up for what you’ve done.” The words seemed to shock Isaac even as he said them, but he went on, “This is not me forgiving you, not by a long shot, but this is me giving you a chance.” He looked to Danny, uncertainty filling his eyes. But Scott was too overjoyed to really notice their silent conversation. Confused, terrified, filled with self-deprecating thoughts about how much he didn’t deserve this, but overjoyed nonetheless. 

“So…” Danny trailed off. Scott knew what he was going to say but didn’t want to jump in, he couldn’t be the one to point it out. A majority of The Pack had been indifferent to whether or not Scott would be allowed back – some saying it was up to Isaac, some saying that it wouldn’t make a difference either way. There had been a few people who had been almost completely against it, which Scott understood, and a couple of people who were all for Scott getting a second chance. So, really, it was Isaac’s choice. Scott wouldn’t force his presence here if he wasn’t wanted. 

They waited as Isaac thought it over. Danny would most likely go along with whatever Isaac said, wanting to support him and anything that would help him heal. Maybe forgiving Scott, no matter how long it took, would help him. In any way. And if that was the case, then Danny wouldn’t stop him.

“Okay, yeah. Yeah, I’m sticking with what I said: you can stay. Again, this is not me forgiving you, I don’t know if I can  _ ever  _ forgive you, you really did hurt me, Scott, but you can stay.” For now, at least.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this chapter. If you did then feel free to leave a comment or/and kudos. You could even share or have a look at some of my other works! Anyway, have a great day, stay safe, bye!
> 
> (find me on Instagram where I post random Sterek stuff very rarely, or you can just come say hi [@_hidden._.wolf_](https://www.instagram.com/_hidden._.wolf_/) )


	32. Together We Are Free.

**~~~~~**

“Stiles?” Derek pulled at Stiles’ shaking hand, dragging him to a stop in front of his car. “Hey, it’s okay.” He had to ground Stiles, keep him breathing slow, steady, he couldn’t let him slip.

“Is it? Maybe it was wrong of me to do this, maybe I should’ve tried harder to get over him, or to--”

“No.” Derek growled, “Don’t do that, stop  _ doing  _ that. You’ve been through a lot – too much – you wanted Scott back and, as much as I don't like him, I do understand that only he would be able to fill the hole he left,” Derek touched Stiles’ chest, right over his heart, “If you  _ want _ him back, then you deserve to have that. Even if it takes time before we start seeing the real him again.” 

Stiles looked up at him, placed his own hand on top of Derek’s, then leaned up and kissed him. Slow, careful, gentle. His hands were steady now, his scent calming down. He pulled away, his breath evening out gradually, and he said, “Thank you.” And for a long moment, Derek couldn’t really believe that he had calmed Stiles down that easily, couldn’t understand that his words had been  _ enough _ for Stiles. So, he kissed him again.

*********

They decided to drive back to Stiles’. Stiles filled the silence of the car with random ramblings, half of which he was sure Derek didn’t actually understand, but he didn’t mind. Then he said something he hadn’t actually meant to say out loud, it slipped into his mind at the same time as some fact he’d forgotten he knew and he’d just  _ said  _ it: “Sometimes I miss the strength I had when I was a vampire.” Then, since he’d already started, he followed that up with, “And sometimes I miss being able to know what people are feeling just by their scent.”

Derek froze, eyes flickering over to Stiles briefly, but that didn’t stop Stiles, in fact, it spurred him on; the need to explain himself forcing the words from his mouth. “Like, not in an ‘I want to be a vampire or other supernatural creature’ way, just an ‘it would be cool if I could do that’ kind of way. Because I don’t miss the no-ageing thing, or the blood, or the overwhelming smell of literally  _ everything _ . And I definitely don’t miss the whole ‘I can hear for miles’ thing because that was just a pain in the ass – or, more accurately, a pain in the ears. I just miss the strength. I liked being able to just smell it when one of The Pack were upset, or the pure smell of happiness, the sometimes sickeningly-sweet smell of love. It was just… useful I guess.”

There was a long pause as Derek pulled up in front of Stiles’ house and mulled over his words as he got out of the car. Then, while Stiles was unlocking the front door, Derek said, “It can be useful.” Another long pause as they went inside and sat down, one Stiles had to fight the urge to fill, “Before you were a vampire, you were good at telling what someone was feeling, even if they didn’t show it.”

“I was?”

Derek nodded, “Yeah, I don’t think that changed much after you gained the ability to tell what they were feeling by their scent.” Stiles smiled softly and Derek went on, “If you really did like the strength then I can help you gain some muscle.”

“Wait, really?” Stiles perked up, a grin spreading across his face.

“Yeah,” Derek’s lips twitched, “Of course.” 

“When can we start?” 

“Whenever you want.”

“In a couple of days? Just, you know, to let things calm down a little.” Stiles said. Derek agreed. After that, they decide to watch a movie, curled up on the couch with popcorn.

**~~~~~**

It was late when Isaac knocked on the front door, not waiting to be let in before he opened it (Stiles really needed to learn to lock the door) and walked into the living room, “Hi, Scott’s getting his chance to fix what he did. No, I haven’t forgiven him but he looked so broken so… Also, we’re getting pizza.” Apparently, they weren’t going to be talking about  _ that  _ any further.

Stiles didn’t let on anything but his scent was a confusing mix of emotions. They would work through them together, whenever Stiles was ready.

Derek raised an eyebrow, “We are, are we?”

“Yes, Danny’s on his way, he just needed to stop by his house to change into something more comfortable.”

Derek glanced down at Stiles who just shrugged, “Sure, why not? Derek can pay for the food.”

“I can?” 

Stiles just grinned at him in response.

**~~~~~**

Danny actually waited at the door before coming in, and Noah arrived not long after him. Stiles grumbled about letting his dad have pizza but finally conceded. 

Lydia showed up not long later, Stiles had been texting her and she hadn’t waited for him to offer before getting in her car and driving over. The pizza had already arrived but she claimed that she’d already eaten and instead just nibbled on a few of Danny’s crusts. It had led to a debate on whether or not crusts were good, which Derek promptly left, opting to get himself a drink instead. 

**~~~~~**

It didn’t surprise anyone when the rest of The Pack showed up and shoved their way onto couches and armchairs. Along with them came more food.

**~~~~~**

When everyone had left and Noah had gone off to bed, Stiles and Derek tidied up the pizza boxes, empty soda cans and food wrappers before heading upstairs and into Stiles’ room.

“Today’s been odd,” Stiles said. “I’m not exactly sure how to feel about it all. I’m glad Isaac is okay with letting Scott have a second chance, but it feels… I don't know. Like, I have everything now.” He turned to face Derek who was sitting on their bed. “I have my best friend back – or, I’m getting him back but he’s  _ here _ and willing to try – I’m human again, I have my Pack, my dad’s okay, I’m going to get stronger,” Stiles flexed his muscles and Derek chuckled. Then Stiles walked forward, cupped Derek’s face in his hands, “and I have you, the best boyfriend I could ever have asked for.” Stiles cringed, his face contorting, “That was cheesy, sorry, but it is true. I’m not used to everything feeling so… so normal. So perfect and  _ okay _ . So calm.”

Derek had to agree. It had been so long since he’d felt this perfect calm. So long since he’d felt any sort of calm at all. Their lives had been a mess of complication after complication, problem after problem, hurt and pain and life-altering accidents and incidents, for so long. He’d forgotten what normal felt like. Forgotten how mundane things could be. How actually, genuinely good life could be, given the chance.

It hurt to know that Stiles had been going through so much, had been put through more than any one person would or should experience in a lifetime, all in the past few years, not including everything that happened before Derek became a part of his life. But they had time to fix that. They had time.

“I’m glad I have you,” Derek said. And Stiles seemed to understand what he was thinking. It amazed Derek that he could do that.  _ Stiles  _ amazed Derek. 

He hoped he could keep Stiles safe from any and all of the monsters that came after them (in the same way Stiles seemed to do for him), and, from that point on, he vowed to do his best. From that moment on, he wouldn’t allow anyone to ruin this. Because  _ this _ was it for him.  _ Stiles _ was it.

So, Derek smiled, open and genuine, when Stiles said, “And I you, babe.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Have a good day, stay safe, bye! :)


	33. Epilogue: Promises Unbroken.

Dear Kira,

I know we said that we would try to keep in touch after your parents decided to move again, but that clearly hasn’t been going well since it’s been just over a year now. So, let me catch you up on everything you’ve missed.

Stiles and I have gotten close again. Not like we used to be, but I don’t think it’ll ever be like it used to be. I’m okay with that now. I think I am, at least. He told me about how he became human again, how Derek’s pure intentions saved him. I’m glad he and Derek are together. I didn’t think I would be, but they make each other happy. Derek smiles now, and Stiles doesn’t always have that undertone smell of anxiety clinging to him. I never paid enough attention to it. It  _ is _ still there, but it’s lessening now. I wish I could’ve realised sooner. I’m trying to stop doing that; wishing to change what I did. All I can do now is try to understand why I did it and then learn from that.

Isaac and Danny are really good together. He’s helped Isaac in ways that I would never have been able to. Isaac can talk to me without his scent souring now, so that’s an improvement! I know he won’t ever forgive me. I don’t deserve that, though. What I said… not even I can forgive it. I hope to any God out there that I haven’t made him doubt himself. He deserves happiness; he deserves Danny.

Lydia’s... well, Lydia. I’m not sure if she’s forgiven me, I’m not even sure if she wanted me to try to earn her forgiveness. She said she did but she doesn’t act like it. I’ve been trying anyway. She’s dating someone, she won’t tell us who yet. She says that she doesn’t want us scaring them off, although they are a part of the supernatural world. I think she met them at the club on Stiles’ eighteenth birthday. I can’t believe I missed that. We had been planning it for years.

The rest of The Pack are doing well, too. Some of them forgave me quickly, some of them let me back in but said that it wasn’t up to them on whether or not I was forgiven. No-one’s explicitly mad anymore – they haven't been for a while. That’s... good. 

They started letting me come to Pack Nights when they have them. Those are always fun. Sometimes I have to leave early, usually because Danny asks me to. It’s okay, I understand it.

Lydia asked me a while ago whether or not I was worried about the kidnappers (remember I told you about them a little while before you left) coming back. I’m not. I’m not anything special or “collectable” anymore. And even if I was, I think The Pack would stop them. Now at least. I’m glad I have them on my side again. I really am.

I miss you. I wonder if you miss me? How’s life over there? Anything interesting happen, do you plan on visiting anytime soon, or could I come see you?

There’re a few things I would prefer to keep so that I can tell you in person but in case I don’t get the chance:

Stiles and Derek are moving in together soon. Stiles got into the  pre-FBI program at the George Washington University in Washington D.C. So they’re working out how that’ll work, with some of The Pack staying in Beacon Hills, some of them going elsewhere, and Derek being the alpha. 

Lydia got into her top choice for university, obviously. Most of The Pack that wanted to go to uni this year got into good places. Stiles and Derek helped them out with arranging everything. I took a gap year but I’m going to start soon, hence why I decided to write this now; I’ll be busy moving and then with work. Also, my therapist said it might be a good idea, he knows all about the supernatural world – Stiles helped me find him. He’s been going too, as have some of the others. It’s really been helping me, we’re working through a lot of things, but it  _ is  _ helping. Mom’s been helping me out a lot, as well. 

Stiles said he’s noticed the difference.

I’m trying to be happy again. The Pack is where I’ve always felt happiest. I hope one day I’ll be able to understand why I tried so hard to sabotage that.

Anyway, uni. I’m excited. Stiles said that it’s been great but he misses everyone. Derek goes up there frequently, though. That’s probably why they’re moving in together.

Isaac is going to the same place I will be, I don’t know if he’s happy or not about that, he’s probably not, but he did say that it was a good place.

Everyone’s doing well. We’ve only had a few creatures invade the town, all of which we’ve handled well. But other than that, everything’s been good. 

Oh, Noah’s stopped glaring at me every time I see him and so has Derek… as much as Derek can  _ not _ glare, anyway.

I think that’s everything that’s important. If I think of anything else then I’ll write you another email. 

I hope to see you soon, and I hope that we’ll be able to actually stay in contact. 

Love, Scott.

P.S. I’m no longer afraid of my own monsters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, that’s it. That’s Monster finished. This was my first full-length multi-chapter fanfiction, and I have really enjoyed writing it and putting it on here for all of you to read. I love and appreciate all of the wonderful comments and encouragements that I have received throughout posting so thank you all. I hope you’ve all enjoyed it as much as I have.
> 
> Also, if you want to then feel free to keep an eye out for more works from me in the future by subscribing to my profile. You can find me on [Wattpad](https://www.wattpad.com/user/Skeleton__Wolf) under the same username as here or on Instagram [@skeleton_w0lf](https://www.instagram.com/skeleton_w0lf/?hl=en)
> 
> Again, thank you all. Have an amazing day, goodbye!


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